En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Soldiers at Peace

Mourn not for these, the children of the spring :
On Flemish plains and far Aegean sand,
Mourn not for these, who had no perishing !
Hang high their swords in churches greatly spanned !
Whose deeds have spoken so, beyond our tears,
Their spirits live, needing no other voice
Above the dimming valley of the years
They live anew, immortal by their choice.

The soldiers' peace of their imagining
has fallen here. The whirling leaves are still:
Deep in the shadow of the rainwashed hill,
A lustre and a quietude art shed,
When all the valley streams are glimmering,
And the moon swims from the storm-wrack overhead.

poem by Herbert Asquith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When You Are Gone

When you are gone I will live on

I will live on

When you are gone

I will not mourn or forget

How love was born

Much stronger still

Though you are gone

You still live on

In birds in clouds

In simple flowers

In bones and flesh

That carry you

Each day, each hour

And this is your power

Though you are gone

Much stronger now

You still live on

In words that echo in the air

In scent of showers

Fallen leaves

In all of these

And feeling sense

You presence, felt in present tense

I will not mourn

Nor wil I grieve

For you live on

Inside of me

yvette m smith sept 08

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hemsley

I am in the Valley of the Craftsmen,
And i am like the 'Omanhene of Ogaa'!
I am in the Valley of Love together with you,
And like the Valley of Women that swims in the river of your muse;
Traditional Area,
I want you to learn about my culture on this love.
Everyone needs a bit of adventure in life oh my sweet Hemsley,
So come and be the legitimate choice on my tracks of love;
And like the Valley of Women that swims in the river of your muse.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the Valley of Cauteretz

All along the valley, stream that flashest white,
Deepening thy voice with the deepening of the night,
All along the valley, where thy waters flow,
I walk'd with one I loved two and thirty years ago.
All along the valley, while I walk'd to-day,
The two and thirty years were a mist that rolls away;
For all along the valley, down thy rocky bed,
Thy living voice to me was as the voice of the dead,
And all along the valley, by rock and cave and tree,
The voice of the dead was a living voice to me.

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Whistle

To the valley of birth,
To the valley of vision,
To the valley of love;
Yes! ! Of a sound guideline in the land of my muse,
And like the fowls of the high mountains.

The king's spear!
Soon the fisherman will mourn;
And like the love of the inheritance of Beersheba.

Clean it well to its further limits and it will be yours;
And like the beasts of the earth,
Because, i have taught them with my wisdom and i know their thoughts.

It is very sad that, religion separates people;
But to the Yebusite City i will rest my mind,
And like the muse of your sweet love in the land of unity.

Baalath Beer! !
Let us teach our children kindness;
And like the prints from the soles of my feet.

She laboured and gave birth in pain!
But try to clean your mind before you give out the children's bread to the dog;
For, adultery is sin.

The valley of salt,
The valley of sugar,
The valley of pepper! !
And like a donkey's head sold for eighty shekels;
But, let us teach our children kindness.

To purify yourselves in the gardens,
In the very time of your troubles;
For, many have really chosen their own ways in this life!
And like climbing Mount Nebo to the top,
However, the referee blew the whistle for us to start the game.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Pain of the Earth

DOES the earth grow grey with grief
For her hero darling fled?
Though her vales let fall no leaf,
In our hearts her tears are shed.

Still the stars laugh on above:
Not to them her grief is said;
Mourning for her hero love
In our hearts the tears are shed.

We her children mourn for him,
Mourn the elder hero dead;
In the twilight grey and dim
In our hearts the tears are shed.

poem by George William Russell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Peace In The Valley

Well, I'm tired and so weary
But I must go along
Till the Lord comes and calls me away
Where the morning's so bright
And the Lamb is the light
And the night, night is as fair as the day.
There will be peace in the valley
For me some day
There will be peace in the valley
For me, Oh Lord I pray
There'll be no sadness
No sorrow, no trouble I see
There will be peace
In the valley for me.
Well, the flowers will be blooming
And the grass will be green
And the skies will be clear and serene
Where the sun ever beams
In this valley of dreams
And no cloud will be seen.
There will be peace in the valley
For me some day
There will be peace in the valley
For me, Oh Lord. I pray
There'll be no sadness
No sorrow, no trouble I see
There will be peace
In the valley for me.
Well, the bear will be gentle
And the wolf will be tame
And the lion shall lay down
By the lamb, oh
And the beasts from the wild
Shall be led by a child
And I'll be changed,
Changed from this creature that I am.
There will be peace in the valley
For me some day
There will be peace in the valley
For me, Oh Lord I pray
There'll be no sadness
No sorrow, no trouble I see
There will be peace
In the valley for me...

song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lament For Shuil Donald’s Daughter

I.

IN old Shuil Donald's cottage there are many voices weeping,
And stifled sobs, and murmurings of sorrow wild and vain,
For the old man's cherish'd blessing on her bed of death lies sleeping,--
The sleep from which no human wish can rouse her soul again.
Oh, dark are now those gentle eyes which shone beneath their lashes
So full of laughter and of love--it seems but yesterday--
Well may Shuil Donald mourn beside his hearth's forsaken ashes,
His lily of the valley is wither'd away!
II.

The spring shall come to other hearts with breezes and with showers,
But lonely winter still shall reign in old Shuil Donald's home;
Others may raise the song of joy, and laugh away the hours,
But he--oh! never more may joy to his lone dwelling come.
Her name shall be an empty sound, in idle converse spoken,
Forgotten shall she be by those who mourn her most to-day--
All, all but one, who wanders with his Highland spirit broken,
His lily of the valley is wither'd away!
III.

And he--long, long, at even-tide, when sunset rays are gleaming,
That sad old man shall sit within his lonely cottage door,
Desolate, desolate shall sit, and muse with idle dreaming
On days when her returning step came quick across the moor.
Oh! never more her quiet smile, her cheerful voice of greeting,
Shall rouse to warmth his aged heart, when darkly sinks the day--
Never, oh! never more on earth those loved ones may be meeting--
His lily of the valley is wither'd away!

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Pledge Allegiance

I pledge allegiance to this land
Where heroes protect every woman and man
The flag that represents freedom and choice
The flag that gives us all a free voice
And on September 11th, when our nation was attacked
We all came together and we fought back
In the midst of terror, many heroes died
They fought to save others and in the end sacrificed their lives
They didn't think twice as they ran toward the fallen cries
All they could think about was to save those victims' lives
Though they have fallen we can still hear freedom ringing in their voice
From the battlefields to the white house we all had to learn to survive
The tragedies on September 11th left a whole nation to mourn and cry
Now we live on to protect our flag's integrity
From the people who just don't seem to see what our nation sees
Though they attack us, never will we fall
I give a salute to the firefighters and soldiers lost on that day
Together we mourn for the victims who had to lose their lives that way
But in their deaths, our nation finally saw
That no matter how much they try, together we cannot fall
So, I pledge allegiance to this land
Where heroes protect every woman and man

poem by Tamara Moir
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We always knew how to honor fallen soldiers. They were killed for our sake, they went out on our mission. But how are we to mourn a random man killed in a terrorist attack while sitting in a cafe? How do you mourn a housewife who got on a bus and never returned?

quote by A.B. Yehoshua
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Valentine's Day

She was the color of TV
her mouth curled under like a metal snake
although Holy Wood was sad
they'd remember this as Valentine's day

flies are waiting

In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death

slit our wrists and send us to heaven
the first flower after the flood

I saw that pregnant girl today
she didn't know that it was dead inside
even though it was alive
some of us are really born to die

flies are waiting

In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death

slit our wrists and send us to heaven
the first flower after the flood

In the Shadow of the Valley of Death
In the Shadow of the Valley of Death

song performed by by Marilyn Manson from Holy Wood (In The Shadow Of The Valley Of Death)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Valentines Day

She was the color of tv
Her mouth curled under like a metal snake
Although holy wood was sad
Theyd remember this as valentines day
Flies are waiting
In the shadow of the valley of death
In the shadow of the valley of death
Slit our wrists and send us to heaven
The first flower after the flood
I saw that pregnant girl today
She didnt know that it was dead inside
Even though it was alive
Some of us are really born to die
Flies are waiting
In the shadow of the valley of death
In the shadow of the valley of death
Slit our wrists and send us to heaven
The first flower after the flood
In the shadow of the valley of death
In the shadow of the valley of death

song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Laugh -- And A Moan

The brook that down the valley
So musically drips,
Flowed never half so brightly
As the light laugh from her lips.

Her face was like the lily,
Her heart was like the rose,
Her eyes were like a heaven
Where the sunlight always glows.

She trod the earth so lightly
Her feet touched not a thorn;
Her words wore all the brightness
Of a young life's happy morn.

Along her laughter rippled
The melody of joy;
She drank from every chalice,
And tasted no alloy.

Her life was all a laughter,
Her days were all a smile,
Her heart was pure and happy,
She knew not gloom nor guile.

She rested on the bosom
Of her mother, like a flower
That blooms far in a valley
Where no storm-clouds ever lower.

And -- 'Merry, merry, merry!'
Rang the bells of every hour,
And -- 'Happy, happy, happy!'
In her valley laughed the flower.

There was not a sign of shadow,
There was not a tear nor thorn,
And the sweet voice of her laughter
Filled with melody the morn.

* * * * *

Years passed -- 'twas long, long after,
And I saw a face at prayer;
There was not a sign of laughter,
There was every sign of care.

For the sunshine all had faded
From the valley and the flower,
And the once fair face was shaded
In life's lonely evening hour.

And the lips that smiled with laughter
In the valley of the morn,
In the valley of the evening
They were pale and sorrow-worn.

And I read the old, old lesson
In her face and in her tears,
While she sighed amid the shadows
Of the sunset of her years.

All the rippling streams of laughter
From our hearts and lips that flow,
Shall be frozen, cold years after,
Into icicles of woe.

poem by Abram Joseph Ryan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blues For The Widow Of The Victim Of A Racist Attck

Mourn, and mourn hard
Your tears shall fall wasted and uncollected
On this damp slab of concrete
Mourn though young widow
Weep because your husband is dead
Cry because the crowd has left and you're alone
And ganged up against by the priests and the
Celebrity pastors who piously tell you
To forgive and forget
Sob because you're surrounded by the officials
Whom the wise state has instructed to order you
To accept reconciliation without justice
Cry the river of your tears because
Your dear departed husband is dead
And your lovely children will know what it's like
To miss the soothing voice of their father
So brutally snatched away from them
And dragged behind a speeding vehicle and fed
To the lions for the sick amusement
Of a deranged and kaffir hating racist
Mourn for yourself mama
Now you'll face the world alone
With the dubious title of a single parent
Hanging on your fragile and emaciated neck
Mourn and cry and weep for the widows
Of the victims of genocide
Mourn and cry and weep for the sisters
Who are cornered and raped by their xenophobic neighbors
Mourn and cry and weep for the victims of the hurricane of
The internecine strife of ethnic cleansing and tribal warfare
Mourn and cry and weep for they
Who die unlamented in the flower of their youth

poem by Ngaka Motaung
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The First Fruits

Once upon the rivers of hope,
Once upon the fountains of waters,
Once upon the valleys of dreams,
Once upon the mountains of love,
Singing as it went through the gardens;
The first fruits of the muse matters a lot.
A message to the walled city,
To it's appointed owners;
No more pain,
No more sorrow,
No more tears,
No more death,
No more crying,
Of the former things gone too soon;
With all things mad anew on a high mountain.
Walk with me in white to know about this story,
Like the potter's vessels;
The first fruits of love is with us all.
In a deep valley,
You should keep the fire burning;
Like brides adorned to their husbands.
To the first fruits of hope,
Like a sickle on the earth;
To the first fruits of dreams,
Like the leaves for healing;
This land of rivers do ned rest.
Life is like the mystery of a woman;
It is noted,
It is written,
It is done!
Like the bride and the groom in the deep valley! !
So, let the first fruits be enjoyable,
And let the artist's pens do judge the mystery;
It's all like a walled city at peace.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Valley

Wake hard in the morning.
See the young girl milking.
Stream rushing by on a bed of stone.
Old goats and sandstone cracking --
All containing --
Squeezing that river like it squeeze your bones.
In the long red, red valley people live here too long.
In the long red, red valley they only sing the valley song.
Some bad people living further down the valley,
Not easy for us to do good trade.
We got snowmelt, snowmelt sweet water.
They got that valley road that they made.
In the long red, red valley people dying here too long.
In the long red, red valley they only sing the valley song.
Holding hands on the hillside.
Showing love to your brother --
Your sister and your mother --
But we hate those people down the valley.
Has anybody seen moses?
Get him off that mountain.
Bring back the tablets of stone.
Its a wise, wise prophet who keeps his own council.
Yeah, leave the other mans wife alone.
In the long red, red valley people live here too long.
In the long red, red valley they only sing the valley song.
Wake hard in the morning.
See the young girl milking.
Stream rushing by on a bed of stone.
Old goats and sandstone cracking --
All containing --
Squeezing that river like it squeeze your bones.
In the long red, red valley people living here too long.
In the long red, red valley they only live the valley song.
In the long red, red valley people dying here too long.
In the long red, red valley they only know the valley song.

song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Valley Of Red

The Valley of red
Was once my Valley of green
Before, the killings took place,
No longer do birds fly overhead
For they can’t, rest their heads.
The trees are all gone
And so are all the hills
They are now, barren fields,
So now the Valley of red
Is my Valley of green
And that, now is my dream.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Never Mourn At My Funeral

Never mourn at my funeral
Because i'm not dead but sleeping
And relaxing on Abraham's bossom
Never mourn at my funeral
You that come in view to mourning
But within you, you're here to mock
Because my poetry has once expose your secret-deeds
Throw my body where you please
Or let it be dismembered
Never mourn at my funeral
You the insect that bites my daffodils
And you who want my fish to swim on a dry earth
Throw me on a stormy sea
Where Jonah fell
But its a glorious shame
I can never sight the river bank of Joppa
Never mourn at my funeral
You that come in my maker's name
Just to bless my end
Go thy way and search for lust souls
Wear them a garment pure as snow
Before they lie low with me
And journey hell eternal
Never mourn at my funeral
But mourn for we're debtors of death

poem by Adesitimi Taiwo
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(There Will Be) Peace In The Valley (For Me)

Oh well, Im tired and so weary
But I must go alone
Till the lord comes and calls, calls me away, oh yes
Well the morning's so bright
And the lamp is alight
And the night, night is as black as the sea, oh yes
There will be peace in the valley for me, some day
There will be peace in the valley for me, oh Lord I pray
There'll be no sadness, no sorrow
No trouble, trouble I see
There will be peace in the valley for me, for me
Well the bear will be gentle
And the wolves will be tame
And the lion shall lay down by the lamb, oh yes
And the beasts from the wild
Shall be lit by a child
And I'll be changed, changed from this creature that I am, oh yes
There will be peace in the valley for me, some day
There will be peace in the valley for me, oh Lord I pray
There'll be no sadness, no sorrow
No trouble, trouble I see
There will be peace in the valley for me, for me

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After Sunshine

Be my soul in outrageous
sunshine of knowledge.
I need a shade of tears.

The barrels were still smoking
after the war.
I will not wake up in morning.

Lightless the day will mourn
for the fallen moon
on the breast of a hill.

Tear down the curtain.
Let me sea the face of death.
I have a long debt to pay.

poem by Satish Verma
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(There'll Be) Peace In The Valley (For Me)

Oh well, I'm tired and so weary
But I must go alone
Till the lord comes and calls, calls me away, oh yes
Well the morning's so bright
And the lamp is alight
And the night, the night is as black as the sea, oh-oh yes
There will be peace in the valley for me, some day
There will be peace in the valley for me, oh Lord I pray
There'll be no sadness, no sorrow
No trouble, trouble I see
There will be peace in the valley for me
Well the bear will be gentle
And the wolves will be tame
And the lion shall lay down by the lamb, oh yes
And the beasts from the wild
Shall be led by a child
And I'll be changed, changed from this creature that I am, oh yes
There will be peace in the valley for me, some day
There will be peace in the valley for me, oh Lord I pray
There'll be no sadness, no sorrow
Oh my Lord, no trouble, trouble I see
There will be peace in the valley for me, for me

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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