The soul and the core of every language
The soul and the core of every language
lie in the lines and rhymes of its poetry
As the divine poets spirit should
Guide us to built our emerging human hood
With universal sublime inner soul nurturing food
Drawn and scale in select proportion fair
From honest mold and vagabond air
From that foul awful dreadful night
Into joyful rebirth bright day light
From antique ashes, whose departed flame
In us a finer life and a longer instated fame
From injuries and wounds; pains and balms
From the quiet after storm that calms
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Related quotes
Gettysburg
Today at Gettysburg the woods are calm, nodding to and through
With shimmering forms that flash before an observer view
And then melt in green, variety of hues as the dawn stars melt in blue
The smiling leaves wave whitening against one's cheek in peaceful caress
As the hands of shadow widows against the wide meadow still express
Even now, their mighty subtle tenderness over this past battle field duress
Embracing boughs at the wood depth into a little wind whisper start
That noise like the echo of wounded fire heart
The agony of despaired screams coming from lips smoking wide apart
It is all quiet now, the trees dream in balm undisturbed by past wrong
The scenery is innocent in beauty, multiplying and strong
The scent of flowers scan through the valley of breath calm and long
Yet reminiscence does breed the stress and the urgent of war
The haunted ecstasy of humans and beast cries tore
The smoke, the fire, and bullets rushing into blood gore
The wounded, the battled deformed dragged behind steeds neighing roar
This morning the dew plashed road is clear and dry
Rich wreathes grape the spacious foreheads of sturdy pines
And from heights breathe ambrosial passion from their vines
And like a timid child they hide from human eye
As I stroll in past paths, I pray with mosses and flowers shy
And as they lift adoring perfumes to the July sky
I slowly move, with ranging looks that pass
Over corn fields and matted miracles of grass
My route leads me into veined complex of space
Where the vast sky with elongated leafage interlace
So close, so calm the heaven of sapphire is seen
As if in woven with heaven of infinitude pastoral green
One may feel the urge to summon the prophet Ezekiel
Who as that past miracle bones revival, will conjure you from hell
Back to here where I pause, my forward faring eyes
Take these magnificent harvests, where the stately vigorous corn-ranks rise.
Oh spirits passing before me as I behold
Your faces in the kingdom of mortality are unfold
Deep eternal sleep comes to every watching eye
Yet yours came so swiftly unjustly under dire battle sigh
Along your bones the creeping flesh did quiver and quake
As your damp hair stiffened with agony and fear it hardly spake
Is man more just in morals than God? , is man more pure
Than he who deems all of us in basic sinful and insecure?
I do mourn you creatures of clay, vainly fell to dwell in the dust
The fields around beauty and calm survive defiantly of your unjust
Things of the day happen and go about their cause before the night
You are the victims of heedlessness and blindness to wisdom wasted light
For politicians like poets should build up their hardihood
From human humility and universal moral food
Drawn in proportions unselfish un individual fair
From honest mould and vagabond ancient wisdom air
Shall man be eventually wise to learn from antique ashes departed flame
Which can bestow on him finer life and longer fame
From past battle wounds and historical balms
From tempest storm and following peace and calms
From archeological potsherds and dry bones
And ruins of past emperors and lying unturned broken stones
Across Gettysburg the woods are holy and calm
Under summer night they absorb the gorgeous moon charm
The colors of splendid night, as the veils of dusk turn deep
Mother earth takes back her sons' sorrow as it turns to sleep
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Who would be there to tell me
Who would be there to tell me
When I catch my falling star
where all my past years are
Many friends of mine in owe and plea
The ones I stirred for love like industrious bee
Here rests his head upon the lap of earth
A man to fortune and to fame is unknown
Fair science frowned not in his humble birth
And misfortune with melancholy marked him for their own
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere
Heaven did a recommence as largely said
He gave to misery all he had, a tear
He gained from Heaven, it was all he wished, he never fret
No further seek his merits to disclose
Or draw his frailties from their clear abode
There they alike in trembling hope repose
The bosom of his soul believes and God
Let the moon climb over the grave into the vaults of the skies
How silent is the world, and how with a wane dimming face
What, may it be that even in Heavenly eternal place
This divine archer, this Queen of the night her sharp arrows tries
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In the inferno of my love session
In the inferno of my love session
And in the madness of my passion
It was heedless on my part
To empower and to delegate authority to my heart
Once bestowed merely on my reason
Herein my reasons I construe
Because my feelings were so full and overwhelming
I could see you in my soul
So much in my soul whole
That I spoke to you within my soul
To such madness I had come
In the blessing of your love
That even imagined your slightest boon
Could drive me to delirium
This I find in my affection
And even more that I cannot convey
But you, from all I did not say
Will sense the love beyond expression
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Shall I care?
Shall I care at all, that in the dreams and in the languor of time
My poetry does not show me and my inner most being and prime
For my poems are fragrance, and not a credible reflection
Words like shadows in disharmony dance and daunt imagination
But I do care, for life will be over so soon,
And I will be lost, forgotten as my being never happen
Like a small candle in mid day bright noon
And my quill idle, blunt and not sharpen
yet, like barley bending in harsh summer winds throng
And rising again and again
So would I, free and unbroken rise from agony and pain
Day long, night long change my sorrow into words of song
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The gloom of an hour
I have at times gnawing fears that my days may soon cease to be
Before my quill has exhausted itself in teeming my brain,
Before my high-piled books, in character, and in gallantry
Hold like rich wheat, the full ripened grain;
When I behold, upon the night's vault starred face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high youthful and fresh romance,
This blessed moon lending its sheen where I shall never trace
Its shadows, with the magic hand of zeal, rapture and chance;
And when I feel the air of a fair creature in the gloom of an hour,
That I shall never look upon or company my kinsmen more,
Never have relish in the fiery power and emotional tower
Of unreflecting love; youth on echoing dunes of an isolated shore
Of this stage wide world a human stands alone, and thinks
Where are all love moments and banners of praise
The human soul they try to cherish and to raise
No answer; his love collapses forgotten; his fame to nothingness sinks.
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Oh prophet!
Oh prophet! Oh prophet! get up and flee
The dormant city
Is vicious, merciless without joviality or glee
Oh prophet! Oh prophet get up and run
The dreadful city before the rising sun
The gentle night welcomes with cover and calm
Oh prophet! oh prophet get up and haste your retreat
The night city drums thunder and beat
A place so foul, no man is liberated or free in solitary streets
Oh prophet! oh prophet get up and hide
This city is filled with bigotry and shameful pride
The night is pure with divinity and delight
Oh Prophet! oh Prophet wake up and rise
Large treasure rapture city eyes
Their sins are blotted in shape and size
Oh prophet! oh prophet take a warning heed
Tomorrow God's wrath will over the city take lead
And with fury and fire burns her towers and her peaks
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A walk in the park
I saw them walking in a park under bright summer day
She and him in a walk of lovers calm pray
He the man I might have grown to be
She my lover, I so yearn to live and love in rapture and glee
His hair was full in mane drawing light and people sight
Tall and handsome, an ora in stature and in height
Unlike me of insignificant form and small diminished frame
Shall I compare myself to him, I can make no claim
Yet His body was a thing grown thin stark,
Like as if hungry for love that never came;
His soul was frozen in the park so aimless and dark,
Unwarmed untouched forever by love's flame.
I felt my lover instantaneously look at him
And then turn suddenly to me –
Her eyes were magic to defy in grim
The unfortunate compare I dread; the man I shall never be.
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Dont You Think It's Time?
children have rights,
women have rights.
lovers have rights.
people of all religions,
and even atheists have rights.
people of all colors,
speaking every language have rights.
trees and rivers have rights.
cats and dogs have rights.
cattle have rights,
homeless people have rights.
prisoners have rights.
democrats and republicans have rights,
even socialists have rights.
the jobless have rights,
old people have rights...
and the hungry have
the right to be fed!
damnit! dont you think it's time?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Night of dew and tangle
I recall a night of dew and tangle
As the dew fell on the cobweb from a wind at angle
To leave it threaded with stars
A night of scattering jewels on fences and pastures bars
As proud dawn rose against dry grass bright
Yet to come under human sight
And tangled boughs and weaved weeds
Bearing a rainbow gem on each of their seeds
Come again you blue dust of evening over slumbering city,
Over this ocean of roofs, walls, streets and tall towers
Where the window-lights innumerable claim skies without pity
And bloom from the walls like climbing flowers.
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A Midnight summer hour
A Midnight summer hour, in the streets of a dormant city
That has not a sound from the warm dusty, pavement
The pale moon has lost her memory in nightly orbit of pity
She is smiling alone in awkward mockery, madness no sentiment
In the dimming lamplight the withered leaves of late summer
Are collecting at my feet and at the corner streets
And the wind by them begins at their hiss to moan
So terrifying sounds that it delays the hesitating dawn
The memory of her all alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the reminisces of old happy days
She was so beautiful then under the sun at the bay
I remember the time I knew that happiness was a delight
Let this divine memory live again in my fantasy
As I walk desolated in empty streets as every street lamp
Seems to beat a fatalistic beacon of final flame
A warning, of its doom approaching end and agonizing ecstasy
Someone mutters at the street lamp gutters band
And soon a fierce and foul dawn rises on the beach sand
The light from her window into the darkness beams
She is no longer mine such an abrasive realistic it seems
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Shall I ever let
Shall I ever let my fancy and dream to roam
To bring this rare pleasure and conjure it back home
At touch this pleasure and memory melts
Like bubbles of water when the rain pelts
Nature has withhold Catherine beauty across the wide skies
What an adornment for the human eyes for next thousands of years
She has taken their cream of beauty, fairest dyes
And shaped and tinted sweet Catherine above all peers
When I behold her on the earth descend
My heart begins to throb and to burn; only in pains
This is my fancy and dreams that melt and vanish; my sad life's end
Love has poured her slaying beauty into my veins
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An Autumn Night
An autumn night, so bitter chill it is
An owl, for all its plum and thick feathers is cold
The hare long ago rushed limping trembling through the frozen maze
Into a lair, and silent stark are the song birds on a woody enfold
Naked trees with barren boughs, no leaf does tremble, no ripple there
On the streets, all abandoned still under the night sleepy eye
The world so deserted from any human sign or care
Darkness reign on dreary routes with echoing cry
And the moon whether prudish or shy in this cold night
Has fled to her bower, well reluctant to lend her dimming light
No light in this oppressing darkness, no fume no torch in the gloom
Is this world ever waken, do these trees ever bloom
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A gracious silhouette on the path of light
A gracious silhouette on the path of light
She was a phantom of delight
when she first gleamed upon my sight
A lovely apparition, upon the earth, sent
to be the world's ornaments
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair
Like the golden dusk her glided hair
But all things else about her said or drawn
are as the joy of emerged from dawn
A dancing spirit, a wanton shape, an image glee and gay
to haunt, to startle and beguile as a piercing ray
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The left
Infatuate left will you still persistently proclaim
Your own mother land final doom, your direst foulest shame
Dis-patriate yourself in insanity so deformed and by the devil damned
Ah, when I hear your traitorous lying cunning bell
This gallant betrayal vane knell
It pains my wounded ear; the lies you tell
An ignorant and unsettled crowd of pretenders in self invalidation
Rush to culture their homeland destruction
And nourish a bantling who has already learned to lisp sedition
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The rights of democracy are not reserved for a select group within society, they are the rights of all the people.
quote by Olof Palme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem: Starving Souls
It's shameful that people go hungry,
given the abundances of this planet.
And yet, there is more to life than food;
real sustenance that feed one's spirit
should be given a higher priority.
Restraint of one's flesh and earthly desires
can be more easily managed and contained
by the application of Godly principles.
Universal Truths satisfy the ravenous spirit
and provide the needed rest of one's soul.
Operating under a spirit of ignorant fear
will never be a righteous way to live.
Domination by possessions and things can be defeated
via the concept of "deferment of gratification".
Biblical wisdom combined with Godly utterance
allows one to regularly and confidently speak…
against circumstance with divine authority.
Starving souls die from a lack of knowledge -
when not in pursuit of the heavenly kingdom.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Heb 4: 12-13; Matt 6: 25-34; John 21: 15-19
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http: //www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
poem by Joseph James Breunig 3rd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rain, rain, rain
Rain, rain, rain
Why it cannot be another rain
The one that comes down
Whirling and smashing under a gust
With force with joy and with thrust
Bouncing from leaf to leaf
From earlobe to earlobe
Shines like a pearl
In the vermilion lap of a rose
And in the morning sun
A playful rabbit will chase
The vapor of its breath
On a lush green turf
Rain, rain, rain
Exits and ends are not joyful trend
Mortality, a monster ambushing life
Lurks our essential being
Craves its victims young and fresh
Devour like fire any piece of beauty to ash
Prey on any joy of ever
This horror of feeling, this dreadful sadness descended on me
Like a night on an owl
To rough and to shake me with dreadful foul
All things are hushed with the falling rain, nature’s self lay dead
The mountains seem to nod their dawn drowsy head
The little birds in dreams their songs not repeat
And sleeping flowers beneath the night-dew sweat
Even lust, Envy and hate sleep, yet loves denies
Rest to my soul and slumber to my eyes
Oh Dear, lay your trouble head to rest
Calm the palpitations in the breast
God renders our fortune sweet
If we aid him with our bravery and wits
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The shade of death
The shade of death is made of a canopy piercing cold
That mortal eyes ache and cannot comprehend or behold
Yet when mortal eyes are closed
And death, cold and pale the limbs reposed
Shall the disposed soul then wakes and roaming it seen
Asking: 'where are Eden's Golden keys? '
Some claim that grave is Heaven' gate
Where rich as poor, royal as commoner, all around it wait
A tale, a fairy, a feeble since old age told
Yet no one from there returned to this story enfold
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A Best Way To Liberation! (1)
As cage bird or imprisoned person we all live our life;
A soul in the body is like a prisoner in the prison here;
However joyful or sorrowful the life is freedom is bliss;
For which we all explore life, world, Nature and God!
Love makes man live in the world inspired by Nature;
Man knows love from Nature and lives better life;
Love of Art, beauty, Nature, music helps to live longer;
Due to love he lives family life far evolved from animals!
Fear is the opposing force of love perpetrated by animals;
Animals achieve all by the force of fear more than love;
But love of knowledge or education puts an end to fear
And knowledge by experience gives wisdom and culture!
Culture ennobles man from animals to live best life
As culture is best way of life based on best of acts
Covering best thoughts, best words and best deeds
Extensively satisfying all aspects of human activities!
Life is conscious existence enjoying bliss in the world;
Divine life is eternal conscious existence in bliss absolute!
Physical life is consciousness of soul powered by energy;
Divine life is consciousness of Universal Spirit everywhere!
Matter has evolved from energy powered by Universal Spirit;
Human body has time limit as all perishable commodities;
The soul within is the dropp of the Universal Soul everywhere,
That is the saturation or end point of all living souls here!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fair is my love from far
Fair is my love from far, but she is far from being fair
She is fickle, her nature is false and her character full of frauds.
No beauties can compensate for such flaws!
Yet her face; her face is so divine without the touch of impurity
She is mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty
Brighter than glass, and yet as glass she is brittle
A soul softer than wax, and yet as iron rusty
A lily pale skin, with damask dye to grace her clad
None fairer, nor none falser to deface her.
Her lips how often she to truth and to logic she joined
Between each of her oaths of true love swearing
How many tales to please the truth she coined,
Dreading the truth, the loss of love and strength still fearing
Yet amid of all her pure protesting
Her faith in love, her oaths of the truth were all jesting.
She burned with love, as straw with fire flames
She burned herself out of true love as soon as straw out burns
She framed her feign love, and she foiled the framing
She forlorn with phantom of love, dark shadows and foul fair
She bade love last, and fell into a bust
Is he a lover last, he that inflicts pains in caress
Agony in soft whisper
A lecher, a vampire of the soul whichever
Bad in the best, though excellent in neither
What for me in all of that, any aspiration? Any goal?
Old, crumpling tattered soul
Do not look at the mirror tonight
For I profoundly hate thee for you keen sight
Rest; take your sleep in the tempest of the night
No comport will lay by your pillow
After such an acid, such a poison spilled by your ink
You awakened sleeping devils, released bottle of imps
O stay at the table! Cried the lines I wrote
We have no power to let her read love by rote
And watch her not able to spell
For her soul is enthralled by the devil of hell
I watched the silver moon plays upon glassy streams
Twinkle another counterfeit beam
How she can not tell
Foul from fair and fair from foul
So seems her gorgeous beauty to mine eyes
But I see her mind full of foul and follies
Fain shall I try to woo her wit, yet again? I dare not speak
Let me back for a pen and an ink I shall rather write my mind
Cowards have no tongue no character
Their comfort is in hide their pride is in hypocrisy
Is she not here?
Will you be daunted at the woman’s sight?
Beauty’s princely majesty is such
That it confounds the tongue
And makes the senses rough and the mind blur
Can such a villain woo such a virtuous woman?
Can she thus be won?
What side of the bed?
I shall rest my exploding head
My body is in flames of pains
Oh let it not start again!
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