En.Citatepedia^®.ro

From The Parish: A Satire

I

In politics and politicians' lies
The modern farmer waxes wondrous wise;
Opinionates with wisdom all compact,
And een could tell a nation how to act;
Throws light on darkness with excessive skill,
Knows who acts well and whose designs are ill,
Proves half the members nought but bribery's tools,
And calls the past a dull dark age of fools.

As wise as Solomon they read the news,
Not with their blind forefathers' simple views,
Who read of wars, and wished that wars would cease,
And blessed the King, and wished his country peace;
Who marked the weight of each fat sheep and ox,
The price of grain and rise and fall of stocks;
Who thought it learning how to buy and sell,
And him a wise man who could manage well.
No, not with such old-fashioned, idle views
Do these newsmongers traffic with the news.
They read of politics and not of grain,
And speechify and comment and explain,
And know so much of Parliament and state
You'd think they're members when you heard them prate;
And know so little of their farms the while
They can but urge a wiser man to smile.

II

A thing all consequence here takes the lead,
Reigning knight-errant oer this dirty breed--
A bailiff he, and who so great to brag
Of law and all its terrors as Bumtagg;
Fawning a puppy at his master's side
And frowning like a wolf on all beside;
Who fattens best where sorrow worst appears
And feeds on sad misfortune's bitterest tears?
Such is Bumtagg the bailiff to a hair,
The worshipper and demon of despair,
Who waits and hopes and wishes for success
At every nod and signal of distress,
Happy at heart, when storms begin to boil,
To seek the shipwreck and to share the spoil.
Brave is this Bumtagg, match him if you can;
For there's none like him living--save his man.

As every animal assists his kind
Just so are these in blood and business joined;
Yet both in different colours hide their art,
And each as suits his ends transacts his part.
One keeps the heart-bred villain full in sight,
The other cants and acts the hypocrite,
Smoothing the deed where law sharks set their gin
Like a coy dog to draw misfortune in.
But both will chuckle oer their prisoners' sighs
And are as blest as spiders over flies.
Such is Bumtagg, whose history I resign,
As other knaves wait room to stink and shine;
And, as the meanest knave a dog can brag,
Such is the lurcher that assists Bumtagg.

poem by John Clare
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Y.. Poetry and History

Tired at night, I went to sleep
I slept tremendously deep
I slept a very long time

I woke up in October of 2110
and some history books of then
were laying in that room of mine

How exciting it was, how queer
to read the history of the coming years
I was in for quite a surprise

The heroes of the 2011 history books
were labelled as what they were, just crooks
Heroes in 2110 were nobody else than the wise

There were some wise people, so clever
who brought to us kindness and wisdom forever
these were the heroes of 2110

Among the heroes, prophets and thinkers were found
poets of wisdom, their names all around
Sages and wise ones from way back,2010

In 2110, from what I could read
there was no longer hunger, no more greed
thanks to the poets sharing wonderful words

I prayed to go back to the time when I had started to sleep
I wanted to share that news, so good, so profound and deep
I was happy to wake up in the now, my prayers were heard

So here I share the wonderful news at last
That greed and hunger will soon be a thing of the past
it all 'll have started in 2012 during spring

History books of the future mention a kindness revolution
Starting in May 2012, affecting all subsequent evolution
Isn't that a wonderful thing?

poem by Aufie Zophy
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The King and The Wise Man

A king asks to a wise man:
'Should my heart hot?
Full of energy and blood
Or should my heart cold?
Full of calculation and plot'
A wise man answers:
'Should your heart warm
So everybody could feel calm
In your arms'

A king asks to a wise man:
'Should my heart black?
Rules my kingdom with fear and dark
Or should my heart white?
Always lives in the world's bright side'
A wise man answers:
'Should your heart grey
The color of human that wants to seek
What's wrong and right'

A king asks to a wise man:
'Should my heart hard?
Strong like steel that can't be beaten by anyone
Or should my heart soft?
Harmless like cotton that easily touched by everyone'
A wise man answers:
'Should your heart flexible
Mold like rubber that could protect people you love'

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Honour The Good Living

Honour the good living and respect the dead
And learn from the past as a wise one once said
Though many leaders never learn from history
Wise people do not become political leaders it does seem to me,
The war supposed to end all wars was fought decades ago
and still the numbers of the war dead does grow
The war like leaders war before peace do choose
But of war it is said that even winners do lose
Of love of their Country some are known to brag
Though such people carry their pride in a flag
Patriotic fervour the path to war lead
And less of Nationalism in the World we do need
We should learn from the past and then look ahead
And honour the good living and respect the dead.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Losers Never Write The War History

The losers never write the war history that's something we already know
Yet for the many wars fought through the ages we do not have the wisdom to show
That victory too comes at a huge cost for war the price is huge to pay
For families who grieve for their dead members their sense of loss with them will stay
Until they themselves go to the reaper the reaper who claims one and all
The loved one war had taken from them with great sadness they will recall
But the dead to life cannot be returned better to live as a coward than die brave
For none has yet come back for to tell us that there is a life beyond the grave,
They died for their God and their Country of dead war heroes some well may brag
Those who place too much worth on the unknowable and the colour of their Nation's flag
I for one find religion and patriotism confusing of god and war heroes hymns and songs are sung
But surely it is a misnomer that only the good do die young
And yet from war we have not learned young lives are lost for wars to be won
And if lasting peace ever does come it won't be through the barrel of a gun

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Chameleon

As the Chameleon, who is known
To have no colours of his own,
But borrows from his neighbour's hue
His white or black, his green or blue,
And struts as much in ready light,
Which credit gives him upon sight,
As if the rainbow were entail
Settled on him and his heirs-male;
So the young 'squire, when first he comes
From country school to Will's or Tom's,
And equally in truth is fit
To be a statesman or a wit,
Without one notion of his own,
He saunters wildly up and down,
Till some acquaintance good or bad,
Takes notice of a staring lad,
Admits him in among the gang;
They jest, reply, dispute, harangue;
He acts and talks as they befriend him,
Smear'd with the colours which they lend him.

Thus merely as his fortune chances
His merit or his vice advances.

If haply the sect pursues
That read and comment upon news,
He takes up their mysterious face;
He drinks his coffee without lace:
This week his mimic tongue runs o'er
What they had said the week before;
His wisdom sets all Europe right,
And teaches Marlborough when to fight.

Or if it be his fate to meet
With folks who have more wealth than wit,
He loves cheap Port and double bub,
And settles in the Humdrum club:
He learns how stocks will fall or rise;
Holds poverty the greatest vice;
Thinks wit the bane of conversation,
And says that learning spoils a nation.

But if at first he minds his hits,
And drinks Champaigne among the wits,
Five deep he toasts the towering lasses,
Repeats yon verse wrote on glasses:
Is in the chair, prescribes the law,
And lies with those he never saw.

poem by Matthew Prior
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Words Of Wisdom

King Solomon was not a fool
When to the Lord he prayed,
For he knew well the Golden Rule
And this had been obeyed...
Yet now a kingdom he must guide,
Regardless, rich or poor,
As long as God stood side-by-side,
He could not want for more...

King Solomon was just a man,
He did not know all things
And yet he knew God had a plan,
God was the King of Kings...
So while God offered him a gift,
He served the kingdom best
If he could stem the tragic rift
With God and all the rest...

King Solomon desired most
God's wisdom here on Earth,
Yet not to brag and not to boast
Or seek to prove his worth...
He asked for wisdom, nothing else,
Not treasures or long life,
For these he knew were short term spells
While men on Earth survive...

King Solomon had pleased the Lord
Who gave these gifts to him
And all God's wisdom was outpoured
To fill him to the brim...
Consider wisdom and take heed
This poetry you see,
The Holy Bible's there to read...
Begin at Calvary!

poem by Denis Martindale
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I want to

I want to tell you a story, And you can read about it some more,

About a wise king called Solomon, who had servants do e Rey chore;

One day he heard the Lord God of Israel talk to him and say,

Because you chose to be my child, and my words you do obey,

I have decided to give you a gift and you can decide which to choose,

You can become very rich, so money, or wisdom, which can you use?

Solomon thought long and hard, and decided wisdom was the best,

And so God said because you wasn't greedy you can have the rest.

Solomon soon found out wisdom he did receive, from the Lord,

When 2 women came fighting over one baby boy he had heard;

The mother of the one who died said its mine the child that's alive,

But the other mother whose one who lived no that's mine, she does lie.

They both argued so king Solomon said cut the baby in two,

Let them share half each, In the bible you'll see it's true;

The real mother said no give to her, please don't destroy the boy,

But the other mum just kept saying slice him, she thought it like a toy.

So king Solomon said give the child to the mother over there,

She is the real mother, she was protecting him, cause she doth care;

Only a real mother could show so much love, enough to give away,

Than let her child be destroyed, Wise Solomon knew what to say.

Yes! Solomon received money as well, but becoming rich went to his head,

When he built such beautiful buildings, he forgot God, and said t'was I. Instead;

The Moral of this story, is don't forget to say Thanks to God for everything,

Never think that you did it all, God has made. So Give Praises to God as you sing.

poem by Margaret Haig
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If Wise Women Led Governments

If wise women led Governments it would seem to me
We would not hear of wars and less talk of poverty
For war would become extinct and poverty would be on the decrease
And we would be on our way to a lasting World peace,
The women in Governments play the games of men
To cause division for them is a sure way to win
Support for their power base by their spreading of fear
Of those seen to be different positive things from them we don't hear,
Though no shortage of wise women in the big world out there
Wise women in politics for to say the least rare
Perhaps only cynical women in politics can hope to survive
In a game where negativity and cynicism is very much alive
And if wise women led Governments there would not be wars and terrorism and less of poverty
And far more compassion and understanding that leads to harmony.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Let there be Peace

Let there be Peace
Let there be peace but not at any price
So games of chance, rolls of the dice
Do not disdainfully dictate like all the rest
That some should rule, some be repressed.
Let lives be counted for their proper worth;
Let no human being brought to birth
Be sacrificed in vain for wounded pride.
Let not a single man, who died
In conflict, be dismissed as second-rate.
Even the enemy deserves a better fate
Than mere obliteration; it's a fact.
Let politicians show a bit of tact
When they, too quick to blame the other
For the mess, forget their brother
Man; for they should have the grace
To recognise each member of the human race
Is just like them, so fallible and weak.
Instead of being rash, they should be meek,
Try to say sorry and apologise
When they make a mistake and not tell lies,
For they are not such fools who seek for us to show
Some understanding for their faults. They know
Within their beings that it is the wise
Who know their limits, recognise
The times when they must take the blame.
They must know they're not in it for the fame
But that they're there to serve, part of the plan
That asks the powerful to do what they can
To help the poor, the victim and the underclass.
They must not let the sacred moment pass
When they can stand for good and not for bad;
Then peace may come, peace may be had
By all, regardless of their various views.
Yet peace does not make headlines and the news
Of evil that men do just seems to dominate.
Why can't they realise it's not too late
To change their minds and act for peace
So all may live together, wars may cease
If tolerance could rule, instead of fear
And though this time of peace seems not too near
Let all of us determine that one day
Peace will conquer war and peace will stay.

poem by C. Richard Miles
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Hope Is Not For The Wise

Hope is not for the wise, fear is for fools;
Change and the world, we think, are racing to a fall,
Open-eyed and helpless, in every newscast that is the news:
The time's events would seem mere chaos but all
Drift the one deadly direction. But this is only
The August thunder of the age, not the November.
Wise men hope nothing, the wise are naturally lonely
And think November as good as April, the wise remember
That Caesar and even final Augustulus had heirs,
And men lived on; rich unplanned life on earth
After the foreign wars and the civil wars, the border wars
And the barbarians: music and religion, honor and mirth
Renewed life's lost enchantments. But if life even
Had perished utterly, Oh perfect loveliness of earth and heaven.

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Selectivity

I sometimes choose to read the news.
Although I seldom share the views.
Which the so called experts express,
those gentlemen who use the press

to try to gain my sympathy
for some outlandish theory.
To which they give their full support
but very little serious thought.

I may be wrong but I suspect
these pundits really do expect
That I should believe their every word.
However patently absurd

But I am not fooled so easily
as they seem to think I’ll be.
I’m wise enough to disagree.
With their brand of idiocy.

I gather facts which I cross check
from other sources that find.
A pinch of salt, I need a peck
They do not think I have a mind.

I’m not incapable of thought
I draw my own conclusions
A little trick that life has taught
me.I have no illusions.

They’re only men the same as me.
Entitled to their point of view
however stupid it may be.
I am quite sure you know this too.

14-Jun-07

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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History Repeats Itself

We only hear of war and terrorism and crimes against humanity
In the World news headlines every day on radio and t v
Systematic abuse by so called soldiers on their prisoners of such we hear and see
And history repeats itself or so 'twould seem to me.

Of a war between the good guys and the bad guys there is no such a thing
For only death and suffering war has been known to bring
To the people of the Country where war is waged in many civilians in the cross fire die
As between the warring parties bullets to and fro do fly.

We've heard it said that war brings peace but with such I don't agree
As the World seems more divided now than at anytime in history
The cultural and religious divide it only seems to grow
And for centuries of fighting wars we do not have much to show.

In the news headlines only bad news or so it would appear
And of war and death and suffering we only see and hear
Yet the war that was to end all wars was waged nine decades ago
And of the lessons we should have learned from history we do not wish to know.

poem by Francis Duggan
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I Held A Star

I held a star last night
in the palm of my hand.
I wished to the heavens
for peace in every land.
I wished for no wars
in the year to come.
I wished for no killing
to be done by anyone.
I wished for love
between all colours and creeds
and that everyone would treat
everyone as a brother, a sister and a friend.
As to whether my wishes
will come true
that is up to everyone
including me and you.

poem by David Harris
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Sun Green

Sun Green started makin' waves
On the day that Grandpa died
Speakin' out against anything
Unjust or packed with lies
She chained herself to a statue of an eagle
In the lobby of Power Co.
And started yelling through a megaphone,
"There's corruption on the highest floor."
Suits poured out of elevators
"You're all dirty."
Phoneheads began to speak
"You can't trust any of them."
Security couldn't get her down
She was welded to the eagle's beak.
Sun Green leaned into that megaphone, said,
"Truth is all I seek."
Security brought in some blow torches
News cameras recorded her speech,
"When the city is plunged into darkness
by an unpredicted rolling blackout
The White House always blames the governor
Saying the solution is to vote him out."
On top of that great bronze eagle
Sun's voice was loud and clear. She said,
"Power Co's working with the White House
to paralyze our state with fear."
It was a golden moment
In the history of TV news
No one could believe it
It just got great reviews
"Hey, Mr. Clean, you're dirty now, too.
Hey, Mr. Clean, you're dirty now, too.
Hey, Mr. Clean, you're dirty now, too.
Hey, Mr. Clean, you're dirty now, too."
The Imitators were playing
Down at Jon Lee's bar
When Sun went down to see em
Someone followed her in a car
Now when she goes dancin'
She has to watch her back
The FBI just trashed her room
One of them kicked her cat
Damn thing scratched his leg
So he had to shoot it dead
And leave it lyin' in a puddle of blood
At the foot of Sun Green's bed
Jon Lee's was rockin'
The Imitators drove it home
Sun was dancin' up a heat wave
For awhile she was all alone
When up walked a tall stranger
Shadowed her move to move
In perfect unison
A supernatural groove
He took her by the hand
And the room began to spin
He said, "I'm Earth; Earth Brown.
You know the shape I'm in.
"I'm leavin' tonight for Alaska
And I want you to come in the spring
And be a goddess in the planet wars
And save the living things.
"I'm ready to go right now,"
Sun Green told Earth Brown
"Let's go back to my place,
pick up my cat, and leave this town behind."
"Hey, Mr. Clean, you're dirty now, too.
Hey, Mr. Clean, you're dirty now, too.
Hey, Mr. Clean, you're dirty now, too.
Hey, Mr. Clean."
Next day Sun Green got busted for pot
And it made the headline news
But then the charges all got dropped
And the story gets confused
I'd still like to meet Julia Butterfly
And see what remedy brings
And be a goddess in the planet wars
Try to save the living things
"But that might not be easy
Livin' on the run
Mother Earth has many enemies
There's much work to be done
"Hey, Mr. Clean, you're dirty now, too.
Hey, Mr. Clean, you're dirty now, too.
Hey, Mr. Clean, you're dirty now, too.
Hey, Mr. Clean.

song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Upon Nothing

Nothing, thou elder brother even to shade,
That hadst a being ere the world was made,
And (well fixed) art alone of ending not afraid.
Ere time and place were, time and place were not,
When primitive Nothing Something straight begot,
Then all proceeded from the great united--What?
Something, the general attribute of all,
Severed from thee, its sole original,
Into thy boundless self must undistinguished fall.
Yet Something did thy mighty power command,
And from thy fruitful emptiness's hand,
Snatched men, beasts, birds, fire, air, and land.
Matter, the wickedest offspring of thy race,
By Form assisted, flew from thy embrace,
And rebel Light obscured thy reverend dusky face.
With Form and Matter, Time and Place did join,
Body, thy foe, with these did leagues combine
To spoil thy peaceful realm, and ruin all thy line.
But turncoat Time assists the foe in vain,
And, bribed by thee, assists thy short-lived reign,
And to thy hungry womb drives back thy slaves again.
Though mysteries are barred from laic eyes,
And the Divine alone with warrant pries
Into thy bosom, where thy truth in private lies,
Yet this of thee the wise may freely say,
Thou from the virtuous nothing takest away,
And to be part of thee the wicked wisely pray.
Great Negative, how vainly would the wise
Inquire, define, distinguish, teach, devise?
Didst thou not stand to point their dull philosophies.
Is, or is not, the two great ends of Fate,
And true or false, the subject of debate,
That perfects, or destroys, the vast designs of Fate,
When they have racked the politician's breast,
Within thy bosom most securely rest,
And, when reduced to thee, are least unsafe and best.
But Nothing, why does Something still permit
That sacred monarchs should at council sit
With persons highly thought at best for nothing fit?
Whist weighty Something modestly abstains
From princes' coffers, and from statesmen's brains,
And Nothing there like stately Nothing reigns,
Nothing, who dwellest with fools in grave disguise,
For whom they reverend shapes and forms devise,
Lawn sleeves, and furs, and gowns, when they like thee look wise.
French truth, Dutch prowess, British policy,
Hibernian learning, Scotch civility,
Spaniard's dispatch, Dane's wit are mainly seen in thee.
The great man's gratitude to his best friend,
King's promises, whore's vows, towards thee they bend,
Flow swiftly to thee, and in thee never end.

poem by Lord John Wilmot
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The Builder's Son

'Is not this the builder's son? ! '
Said King Herod the Tetrarch;
But the jewels of the crown is all because of Herodias.

Of the prisoners of hope,
Let your light so shine in the wilderness of Yahweh!
For the builder's son is the teacher for us all.

Of Archelaus son of King Herod,
Like the message to the child and his mother;
But the name of wisdom is in the wilderness of love.

From Egypt i have callled my son like,
In the days of King Herod;
But the Wise Men from the East have more to teach us.

Of the builder's son,
Like the four generations of hope;
But the fall of Babylon is like the acts of Zerrubabel!

Life is like the Megiddo Valley,
But i am like the fire among the woods!
With my hope of sincere love to share with the prisoners.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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What Have We Learned From History

What have we learned from history little if anything
Of war men and war heroes their praises we still sing
Humankind have come far in technology and on the moon surface have trod
And still we fight for our Nation's flag and go to war for our God.

What have we learned from history not much if you ask me
We still have wars and famines and we still have poverty
And we still have this awful thing called ethnic cleansing and we still have refugees
And we still wage war on Mother Earth and we still pollute her seas.

What have we learned from history if anything at all
Before the baby has to walk the baby has to learn to crawl
And life is just a learning curve or so we have been told
But few of those who lack wisdom in their twenties grow wiser as they grow old.

What have we learned from history we have learned to populate
And by bulldozing more virgin woodlands more diseases we create
We pollute Mother Earth who feeds us and our successes seem so few
And that the World would do nicely without us only happens to be true.

What have we learned from history go ask one wiser than I
The World is far more polluted now than when I was a boy
And history has a habit of repeating itself a wise one once did say
And I've not learned from history though I grow old and gray.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Serve Verse - Anagram Acrostic - Bud Free in Time, Shape Your Heart's Vision Through Verse

BEYOND YE BOND which terrifies
UNITE! UNTIE! PROD, DROP disguise,
DRAW joy WARD off REEF, FREE dark skies.
FOR TUNES trump FORTUNE’S flighty eyes.
READ, DEAR, SURE RUSE personifies
Each VERSE to SERVE sans compromise.
Each REVERSE REVERES replies.
ITEM EMIT for as TIME flies
No MITE, POOL LOOP, personnifies
The DEW WED, so NODE DONE advise
IT RIPS the SPIRIT – so scribe’s highs
May LOWS SLOW link, revise.
Easy WOLF FLOW satisfies.
Splice I AM AIM to WE IS - WISE.
HEART'S ARTS HE MASTERS STREAMS supplies
As SMILE which MILES DROPS, PRODS surprise.
PART STALE TALE's TRAP, - LO US! - SOUL ties
Each THREAD - no DEARTH - needs systemize
You EDIT TIDE DIET DEED despise
Objections COLD CLOD compromise.
URGES SURGE FROM FORMal guise,
REACT, TRACE NOW WON OWN enterprise.
He who GUIDES IS in DISGUISE
Each GENIC ZERO RECOGNIZE -
ALL mirrors ALL in different guise -
Response to dark INSURES SUNRISE!
The PAGE does GAPE? Just realize
Sometimes it OVERSIMPLIFIES
Verse low for LO IMPs IMPROVISE
IDEAS ASIDE on SITE link TIES -
Some POLEMICS, where one COMPLIES
In ONE COMPILES, NEO BUSY BUYS,
Or, FACE ITS SIN it SANCTIFIES
Naught - for I SIMPLE e'er IMPLIES
The rhyme IS SUPPLE and SUPPLIES
Here sharing and 'I SCREED' DECRIES.
Rubbish IT CHASES to CHASTISE
Or TEACH not CHEAT, through verse RITES TRIES
Uses INTACT, IN TACT rectifes,
Good SIRE, to RISE above weak cries.
Here knots HER 'MY' - in RHYME it flies -
Vocation EVIL, VILE, denies.
END prison DEN, let VERSE SERVE guys!
RESPOND PONDERS, Reaction dies.
Sight clear can LEAP, PEAL fast past lies...
Each THEME MET, HE, GAME MAGE, gains prize!

_____________________

Bud Free!

BEYOND YE BOND which terrifies
UNITE! UNTIE! shed all disguise,
DRAW joy WARD off, REEF FREE dark skies.
Knit I AM AIM to WE IS - WISE.
ROSE, SORE, RETWINS, WINTERS defies.
IN ONE I NONE FILE LIFE. Arise!
STREAM MASTER – HEART ART HE supplies
The SMILE which MILES DROPS, PRODS surprise.
Your WOLF’S growl grows FLOWS fertilize.
PART is a TRAP, - LO US! - SOUL ties
In knots HER 'MY' - in RHYME it dies.
The PAGE does GAPE? Just realize
ALL mirrors ALL in different guise
FOR TUNES trump FORTUNE’S flighty eyes.
READ, DEAR, SURE RUSE personifies
Each VERSE to SERVE sans compromise.
Each REVERSE REVERES replies,
Vocation EVIL VILE denies, -
END Lion’s DEN, REEF FREE, cease sighs
RESPOND PONDERS, Reaction dies.
Sight clear can LEAP, PEAL off past lies....
Each THEME MET, HE, GAME MAGE, gains prize!

poem by Jonathan Robin
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They Gave Their All

I may not understand the wars
Or the fields of rotting corpses

I've read all the poems
Of wars from the past

And cannot imagine
The life lived back then

A blood soaked battlefield
Death wading with glee
At those that have fallen
For the right to be free

So many souls lost in time
Fighting a cause, humanity blind
Dare I say, what I read?

In between the lines
A poet soldier
Who needs to be free?

Do I have a right?
To question their fight

They gave their all
In what they believed

Teardrops fall as I continue my rhyme
But what I do understand
Is that they fought through all the wars
So that we can be free
To choose our lives
And live to be
What we want to be

All the bloodshed fields
The entire hero's lost in wars
I bow my head, and pray to thee
Thank you all
For letting me breathe

To learn and discover
The meaning of me
Tears trickle down
As I cry for your loss
You never got the chance to be free
You never found your path in life
You never came home to your loved ones, friends, and family

So what gives us the right?
The generation of today
To say how boring
Our life is today

When those in war
Never had a full life
They gave it all
So we could be free
To live a full life

I thank the hero's
Of past, present and yet to be
What so sad for humankind
Is that war is our history

Perhaps in the future
We can see peace and harmony
Perhaps dare I say it
A world weapon free

poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wisely Love The Wise

The wise love wisely.

It’s said, that when the truly wise
surface from their sleep,
they see nought but heavenly blue
in which the world then gently, slowly shapes itself
as if this whole created world were but
a single act of love; and within that love,
their love is wisdom, knowledge, law;
as they emerge from their wise sleep,
this is what they are.

The wise love wisely; when they look at you,
(you who maybe meet them for
the first time; offer them perhaps
a flower from too hot a hand,
a fruit, a handkerchief…
or meet them by some heavenly accident,
they, like a comet through your life)

and their first so wise glance at you
sees nought but your perfection;
they do not doubt that you are they,
that they are you; and while they’re here
you share all this with them;
you’ve met yourself; for this
is what you are..

The wise are careful lovers
for love is care, and care is charity;
and yet the wise are widest, wildest,
most romantic lovers:
they throw, they strew their love
on all and every one and thing without a further thought,
offering simply, lawful freedom, happiness;
bidding love well as it flies away,
wishing you themself;
wishing you, yourself;

The wise love wisely;
for they know the secret law of love:
the more it’s given, the more there is
to give.

The wise love wisely;
so, they wear a wise disguise;
they look like you and me; because
we are that same disguise.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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