They Once Said
He said, all that glitters is not gold.
He once said, in the depths of winter
He finally learned that within him
There lay an invincible summer.
He wrote, you purchase pain with all that joy can give
And die of nothing but a rage to live.
He once said, he who does not forgive
Burns a bridge he too must someday cross.
He once said, forgiveness is the fragrance
A violet sheds on the heel that crushed it.
He said, love your neighbour as yourself.
He wearily said, all is vanity.
He defined a fool, as he who said
In his heart that there is no God.
He once said, what lies behind us
And what lies before us, is nothing Compared to what lies within us.
He strongly advised that
Talent is God given, be humble.
Fame is man given, be grateful.
Conceit is self given, be careful.
He observed life under the sun and shared that
The race is not to the swift
Nor the battle to the strong
Neither yet bread to the wise
Nor yet riches to men of understanding
Nor yet favour to men of skill;
But that time and chance happens
to them all.
He once said never judge a book by its cover.
He once said that health is wealth.
He once said, you are not what you think you are
But what you think, you are.
The watchmaker promised, time heals all wounds
He said, time which sees all, reveals all
He taught that ambition is the path to success
Persistence is the vehicle you
arrive in.
He said, everything has been said
before
But since nobody listens we have to keep going back
And beginning all over again.
He summed up everything he'd learned about life in three words
It goes on...
And so life went on and poured us out
And we heard these things
Stood at the crossroads of highroads and lowroads
And chose no road, doing as each saw wise
In his infinitely minute wisdom
We judged every book we saw by its cover
And assumed every glittering glass was gold
And said there was no God
And were swift and smart and sharp
And ran as fast as a thunderbolt into the skies
The fulfilled every vanity
And knowing time sees us, have secrets still
And when time reveals them, hide in shame still
And though having health freely
Sought wealth and when gotten
Spent wealth on appeasing health to come back
And refused to smell the flowers
But filled our rooms with synthesized fresheners
And bought pain with all that joy was selling
And crushed the violet and polluted its fragrance
And demanded instant noodles with an instant life
And left all that lied within us dead
While searching for what lay ahead
And holding onto memories gone
And hated our neighbours
Or obsessed over our looks
Never caring for anyone but the mirror's reflection
We replay the ancient drama of man's folly
And die of nothing but a rage to do it right.
...They once said...you once heard...
Heed.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Related quotes
Health and Wealth
When I had health, I strived to earn more wealth;
I toiled so hard that I soon lost my health!
When I got wealth, more vice crept in by stealth;
My wealth was gone, so also my good health!
So, keep your health and earn some wealth;
Don't earn more wealth and lose all health;
Just use your wealth to keep your health;
In life on earth, Health is your wealth!
poem by John Celes
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No More Lies
There's a darkened sky before me
There's no time to prepare
Salvage a last horizon
But no regrets from me
Maybe I'll be back some other day
To live again just who can say
In what shape or form that I might be
Just another chance for me
A hurried time no disgrace
Instead of racing to conclusion
And wishing all my life away
No-one can stop me now
Time is up it couldnt last
But there's more things I'd like to do
I'm coming back to try again
Someday maybe I'll wait till then
No more lies
No more lies
No more lies
No more lies
They're all sitting at my table
Talking tall and drinking wine
Their time is up just like me
But they just dont know it yet
So just a word of warning
When you're in your deepest dreams
There's nothing you can hide from
I've got my eye on you
The clock is fast the hour is near
Eventful past is everclear
My life is set the time is here
I think I'm coming home
No more lies
No more lies
No more lies
No more lies
A hurried time no disgrace
Instead of racing to conclusions
And wishing all your life away
No-one can stop me now
Time is up it couldnt last
But there's more things I'd have to do
I'm coming back to try again
Someday maybe I'll wait till then
No more lies
No more lies
No more lies
No more lies
No more lies
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forms of Wealth
To money is attributed wealth
But the open truth of wealth
Is, It is not the only kind of wealth—
There are also other forms of wealth!
Good health is the best form of wealth
Forging rich links in relationships is wealth
Spontaneous love for all life forms is wealth
To have enthusiasm in life is wealth.
Acquiring life-long learning is wealth
Experience and wisdom in life is wealth
Meeting new people is also wealth
Visiting new places too is authentic wealth.
The quest to explore something is wealth
To have a positive mind-set is wealth
Existence of deep internal peace is wealth
Early morning waking up with joy is wealth.
Possessing high self-respect is wealth
Having strong spiritual connection is wealth
There exist so many types of wealth
Constitute all these and you're with full wealth!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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How Do You Sleep
I place my head between my hands
As once again I softly weep
I think to myself, as there is no one else,
Please tell me; How do you sleep.
Do you not think of the things you have done
Or the lies and untruths that you have said
It pains my mind, probably till the end of time
Until the time that we both are dead.
You tell your lies as they are the truth
So you can cover up your ways and sin
Do you believe your lies, as the truth you deny
Thinking your innocent in front of God and men
As I sit alone in my chair
Thinking of the secrets you did keep
With your picture in hand, I cant understand
Then I say to you; how do you sleep.
I trusted you with all that I know
And I gave you all that I had to give
You were my life, and you were my wife
And i’d give you my soul for you to live.
But then your past it caught up with you
A time that I knew nothing about
When you were wild, like a crazy child
Who got there way, as it ended out.
As I walk through out the house
As for answers I still try to seek
I walked through our home, now I am alone,
Please tell me; how do you sleep.
As I look back at the things you have done
Remembering the vows that you had broke
And In my brain, now there is only pain
With all the lies you've done and spoke.
I find my bible and it I begin to read
Someday the devil will have your soul to reap
Until that time, your words are a crime,
And please tell me; how do you sleep.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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To Dr. Austin, Of Cecil Street, London
Austin, accept a grateful verse from me,
The poet's treasure, no inglorious fee.
Loved by the Muses, thy ingenuous mind
Pleasing requital in my verse may find;
Verse oft has dashed the scythe of Time aside,
Immortalising names which else had died.
And oh, could I command the glittering wealth
With which sick kings are glad to purchase health;
Yet, if extensive fame, and sure to live,
Were in the power of verse like mine to give,
I would not recompense his art with less,
Who, giving Mary health, heals my distress.
Friend of my friend! I love thee, though unknown,
And boldly call thee, being his, my own.
poem by William Cowper
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Finally
There's a time for glory
and a time for fame
but not for those
who have no name.
There's a time for riches
and a time for wealth
but not for those
who have bad health.
There's a time to be happy
and a time to be glad
but not for those
whose lives are sad.
When is their time
for all these things?
When they tire of this existence
and spread their wings.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Judge of Justice (Why this Poverty)
With all my wisdom
The poor bow his head
Even in your kingdom
I do acknowledge
Before cruel hand of strength
There is no regards for knowledge
Many a time
I have seen
The poor being disregarded
And badly humiliated
Is this the justice awarded?
You the judge of justice
They have nothing
Only grief as wealth
Tears roll down their cheeks
They sleep hungry for weeks
O judge of justice
Why is this injustice
What was poor's foul
Of the tactless soul
Why you sent them to world
Full of men cruel and bold
Where without strength
Poor have to mew
You showered wealth
In the houses of few
By your great grace
Many are enjoying health
It's your presence
That flower give fragrance
Then why you deprived them
Of good health and ample wealth
Why embittered their life
Shrouded their soul with grief
O judge of justice
Why you did injustice
Shashikant Nishant Sharma 'साहिल'
=====©SNS==28 June 2003==@Patna=====
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
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The Intent(Hate)
Bland taste in mouth.
Nauseating feeling in gut.
Clenched fist which can't help but give the finger.
Forty-eight bones caught in involuntary activity.
Disdain in eyes.
Fumes in ears.
Released by O2-CO2 traffic.
Pinched lips.
Arched brows.
Batting lashes.
Dark heart.
Painful memories.
Got hurt.
Give hurt.
Smiles. Lies.
Hugs. Stab.
Thoughts. Poison.
Let go? . Can't
Time. Reveals.
Violet. Crushed.
Gained. Something.
Life. Goes on.
Time. Kills.
Let go? ...Done.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Wealth
Wealth cannot
comensate health.
Wealth is earthly
Health is above it.
Actual welfare lies
In proper maintenance
And through health
You can reach heaven.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Money Ain’t God
Money is not God,
Albeit good health and great wealth
Will put a commoner in the position to afford
The most luxurious amenities on earth.
God is wealth;
Good health
Is the richest gift
That can be bestowed on a chief.
Money is like a gaud;
It is a fraud
To think that money is God.
A King or a Queen, without good health,
Is sinking at the bottom;
He or she is dead, indeed worthless.
A penniless pauper, with great health,
Is wealthier than one can fathom;
He or she is darn blessed.
God is wealth;
God is health;
Money ain’t God;
Money ain’t God.
Good health and great wealth
Are like divine gifts;
Adding a little wisdom and a good heart,
Such combo will put a cherub on a celestial lift,
Where life is wonderful and set apart.
God is wealth;
Good health
Is the richest gift
That can be bestowed on a chief.
Money is like a gaud,
It is a fraud
To think that money is God.
poem by Hebert Logerie
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Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.
quote by Mark Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stealth, Health and Wealth
Stealth, health and wealth, each a curious breed
Are not such strange bedfellows indeed.
Stealth, with its cunning and mysterious ways,
Escapes notice matter not the attention one pays.
With the suspicious this surreptitious wins in spite
Of all who strain for a glimpse of its sight.
Then there's health with its nefarious aim,
Favoring young and wealthy in its merciless game.
What justice is there as it forsakes the weak,
Choosing to stand by and laugh at the meek?
Or why does it change with no reason at all,
Ignoring vanquished victims imploring its call?
Now lastly take wealth, oh wealth so dear.
The worst irony of all may, indeed, lies here.
Many forfeit love and happiness for a chance
To tiptoe with this god in an all-too-short dance.
Then as stealth teams with wealth, it's time to pay
Costs of health escaping more notice every day.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Vanity of All Worldly Things, The
As he said vanity, so vain say I,
Oh! Vanity, O vain all under sky;
Where is the man can say, "Lo, I have found
On brittle earth a consolation sound"?
What isn't in honor to be set on high?
No, they like beasts and sons of men shall die,
And whilst they live, how oft doth turn their fate;
He's now a captive that was king of late.
What isn't in wealth great treasures to obtain?
No, that's but labor, anxious care, and pain.
He heaps up riches, and he heaps up sorrow,
It's his today, but who's his heir tomorrow?
What then? Content in pleasures canst thou find?
More vain than all, that's but to grasp the wind.
The sensual senses for a time they pleasure,
Meanwhile the conscience rage, who shall appease?
What isn't in beauty? No that's but a snare,
They're foul enough today, that once were fair.
What is't in flow'ring youth, or manly age?
The first is prone to vice, the last to rage.
Where is it then, in wisdom, learning, arts?
Sure if on earth, it must be in those parts;
Yet these the wisest man of men did find
But vanity, vexation of the mind.
And he that know the most doth still bemoan
He knows not all that here is to be known.
What is it then? To do as stoics tell,
Nor laugh, nor weep, let things go ill or well?
Such stoics are but stocks, such teaching vain,
While man is man, he shall have ease or pain.
If not in honor, beauty, age, nor treasure,
Nor yet in learning, wisdom, youth, nor pleasure,
Where shall I climb, sound, seek, search, or find
That summum bonum which may stay my mind?
There is a path no vulture's eye hath seen,
Where lion fierce, nor lion's whelps have been,
Which leads unto that living crystal fount,
Who drinks thereof, the world doth naught account.
The depth and sea have said " 'tis not in me,"
With pearl and gold it shall not valued be.
For sapphire, onyx, topaz who would change;
It's hid from eyes of men, they count it strange.
Death and destruction the fame hath heard,
But where and what it is, from heaven's declared;
It brings to honor which shall ne'er decay,
It stores with wealth which time can't wear away.
It yieldeth pleasures far beyond conceit,
And truly beautifies without deceit.
Nor strength, nor wisdom, nor fresh youth shall fade,
Nor death shall see, but are immortal made.
This pearl of price, this tree of life, this spring,
Who is possessed of shall reign a king.
Nor change of state nor cares shall ever see,
But wear his crown unto eternity.
This satiates the soul, this stays the mind,
And all the rest, but vanity we find.
poem by Anne Bradstreet
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The Vanity of All Worldly Things
As he said vanity, so vain say I,
Oh! Vanity, O vain all under sky;
Where is the man can say, "Lo, I have found
On brittle earth a consolation sound"?
What isn't in honor to be set on high?
No, they like beasts and sons of men shall die,
And whilst they live, how oft doth turn their fate;
He's now a captive that was king of late.
What isn't in wealth great treasures to obtain?
No, that's but labor, anxious care, and pain.
He heaps up riches, and he heaps up sorrow,
It's his today, but who's his heir tomorrow?
What then? Content in pleasures canst thou find?
More vain than all, that's but to grasp the wind.
The sensual senses for a time they pleasure,
Meanwhile the conscience rage, who shall appease?
What isn't in beauty? No that's but a snare,
They're foul enough today, that once were fair.
What is't in flow'ring youth, or manly age?
The first is prone to vice, the last to rage.
Where is it then, in wisdom, learning, arts?
Sure if on earth, it must be in those parts;
Yet these the wisest man of men did find
But vanity, vexation of the mind.
And he that know the most doth still bemoan
He knows not all that here is to be known.
What is it then? To do as stoics tell,
Nor laugh, nor weep, let things go ill or well?
Such stoics are but stocks, such teaching vain,
While man is man, he shall have ease or pain.
If not in honor, beauty, age, nor treasure,
Nor yet in learning, wisdom, youth, nor pleasure,
Where shall I climb, sound, seek, search, or find
That summum bonum which may stay my mind?
There is a path no vulture's eye hath seen,
Where lion fierce, nor lion's whelps have been,
Which leads unto that living crystal fount,
Who drinks thereof, the world doth naught account.
The depth and sea have said " 'tis not in me,"
With pearl and gold it shall not valued be.
For sapphire, onyx, topaz who would change;
It's hid from eyes of men, they count it strange.
Death and destruction the fame hath heard,
But where and what it is, from heaven's declared;
It brings to honor which shall ne'er decay,
It stores with wealth which time can't wear away.
It yieldeth pleasures far beyond conceit,
And truly beautifies without deceit.
Nor strength, nor wisdom, nor fresh youth shall fade,
Nor death shall see, but are immortal made.
This pearl of price, this tree of life, this spring,
Who is possessed of shall reign a king.
Nor change of state nor cares shall ever see,
But wear his crown unto eternity.
This satiates the soul, this stays the mind,
And all the rest, but vanity we find.
poem by Anne Bradstreet
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Inspiration to a Man
Inspiration to a man,
Is success of another,
Whether a small step forward,
Or a large leap of faith.
Happiest of the most cheerful,
Are the ones that bear the biggest pain,
And the brightest of company,
Are found in the shade.
So never judge a book upon its cover,
As you don’t judge a flower before its bloom,
The power of a man,
Is never known by himself,
Until he passes through the wall in his mind.
The waste of the lives of the heroes in battle,
Leave all the wives behind.
For the skill of gaining knowledge and wisdom,
Always out of reach for the vain.
To the depths of vanity,
The good will always prevail,
And as in time the natural process emerges,
As dark always clears,
And as life is never idle.
Like when change does appear,
The challenge will persevere,
As the first star rises,
Does the imagination of the children,
Begins the inspiration of the man.
poem by Melissa Coventry
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A Health to Mark Twain
At his Birthday Feast
With memories old and wishes new
We crown our cups again,
And here's to you, and here's to you
With love that ne'er shall wane!
And may you keep, at sixty-seven,
The joy of earth, the hope of heaven,
And fame well-earned, and friendship true,
And peace that comforts every pain,
And faith that fights the battle through,
And all your heart's unbounded wealth,
And all your wit, and all your health,--
Yes, here's a hearty health to you,
And here's to you, and here's to you,
Long life to you, Mark Twain.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Lord
I stood on the edge of love and life
And chose the mediocrity of numb
Are you watching me?
I want to know who you are
I want to know what you are
I want to see what you see
I want to understand why I'm me
My story began without my consent
But the journey has been your intent
I got broken some place
Went back in time
Still don't know where
The wound made me a promise
'I will never heal'
I gave you my heart and cried 'Fix me'
My violet died, nothing that came after
that was worth a damn
Too many presents that missed your
presence
Too few answers to forgotten questions
If I'm lost, dead and need a helper
You are all my heart remembers
In the chill of winter's cruel
You are my thaw that brings me spring
Winter's here again LORD
My eyes were blind and ears sharp
When I heard you this say:
The pain, the joy
The love, the ache
The poems, the grief
The summer, the winter
The cacophony, the symphony
The loneliness, the happiness
The break, the mend
The heart, the mind
The life, your life, my life
I pull my heartstrings
And make the purest music
My love, your heart, a frame
In time, you'll see...you'll see...
You broke, I picked
The pieces, my mosaic
The mosaic...a perfect picture of you and me.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Left in time
Left in time are the tears that I've cried
Mother nature gives them back in the rain
Left in time are the lies that I've told
For back in the day I was young and so bold
Now time tells me to swallow my pride
For life is now filled with aches and some pain
Left in time is are the words that I wrote
sent from me to the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
The Three Kings [1]
The East is dead and the West is done, and again our course lies thus
South-east by Fate and the Rising Sun where the Three Kings wait for us.
When our hearts are young and the world is wide, and the heights seem grand to climb—
We are off and away to the Sydney-side; but the Three Kings bide their time.
‘I’ve been to the West,’ the digger said: he was bearded, bronzed and old;
Ah, the smothering curse of the East is wool, and the curse of the West is gold.
I went to the West in the golden boom, with Hope and a life-long mate,
‘They sleep in the sand by the Boulder Soak, and long may the Three Kings wait.’
‘I’ve had my fling on the Sydney-side,’ said a blacksheep to the sea,
Let the young fool learn when he can’t be taught: I’ve learnt what’s good for me.’
And he gazed ahead on the sea-line dim—grown dim in his softened eyes—
With a pain in his heart that was good for him—as he saw the Three Kings rise.
A pale girl sits on the foc’sle head—she is back, Three Kings! so soon;
But it seems to her like a life-time dead since she fled with him ‘saloon.’
There is refuge still in the old folks’ arms for the child that loved too well;
They will hide her shame on the Southern farm—and the Three Kings will not tell.
’Twas a restless heart on the tide of life, and a false star in the skies
That led me on to the deadly strife where the Southern London lies;
But I dream in peace of a home for me, by a glorious southern sound,
As the sunset fades from a moonlit sea, and the Three Kings show us round.
Our hearts are young and the old hearts old, and life, on the farms is slow,
And away in the world there is fame and gold—and the Three Kings watch us go.
Our heads seem wise and the world seems wide, and its heights are ours to climb,
So it’s off and away in our youthful pride—but the Three Kings bide our time.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Psalm 49 part 1
v.6-14
C. M.
Pride and death; or, The vanity of life and riches.
Why doth the man of riches grow
To insolence and pride,
To see his wealth and honors flow
With every rising tide?
[Why doth he treat the poor with scorn,
Made of the self-same clay,
And boast as though his flesh was born
Of better dust than they?]
Not all his treasures can procure
His soul a short reprieve,
Redeem from death one guilty hour,
Or make his brother live.
[Life is a blessing can't be sold,
The ransom is too high;
Justice will ne'er be bribed with gold,
That man may never die.]
He sees the brutish and the wise,
The tim'rous and the brave,
Quit their possessions, close their eyes,
And hasten to the grave.
Yet 'tis his inward thought and pride,-
My house shall ever stand
And that my name may long abide,
I'll give it to my land."
Vain are his thoughts, his hopes are lost,
How soon his memory dies!
His name is written in the dust
Where his own carcass lies.
PAUSE.
This is the folly of their way;
And yet their sons, as vain,
Approve the words their fathers say,
And act their works again.
Men void of wisdom and of grace,
If honor raise them high,
Live like the beast, a thoughtless race,
And like the beast they die.
[Laid in the grave like silly sheep,
Death feeds upon them there,
Till the last trumpet break their sleep
In terror and despair.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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