On Death
1.
Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream,
And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by?
The transient pleasures as a vision seem,
And yet we think the greatest pain's to die.
2.
How strange it is that man on earth should roam,
And lead a life of woe, but not forsake
His rugged path; nor dare he view alone
His future doom which is but to awake.
poem by John Keats
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Related quotes
On Death
John Keats.
Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream?
and scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by.
The transient pleasures as a vision seem
and yet we think the greatest pain’s to die.
Glosa a tribute
Can death be sleep when life is but a dream.
The final dreamless sleep which grants us rest
.Or better yet part of some greater scheme
which guarantees we all find release.
From misery which seems always to increase
and scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by
on flying feet as if they’re loath to cease
their swift progress momentarily.
They pass as swiftly as a stray sunbeam
which penetrates through cloudy skies of gray.
The transient pleasures as a vision seem
a sign of hope that quickly fades away.
Why is that we suffer constantly
It may well be death sets us free to fly
towards the light where we are meant to be
.And yet we think the greatest pain’s to die.
7-Sep-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poetic piers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I Dreamt A Dream
I dreamt a dream
But now I lay awake
Sleep far gone
But the dream goes on
Sweeter than sleep
More tender
Than a poem
Through eternity
Like an epic poem
Our love
Our home
All boundaries gone
Together
A second
A breath
A whisper
A chance
A moment
A blessing
A kiss
A prayer answered
Never spoken
Somehow from my heart
It strayed
Precious spirit
Teaching
Listening
Answering
C aring
The Spirit Moves between
Earth and Heavenly realms
Communicating with
You and me
The perfect seed
Faith
Hope
Charity
Virtue
Grace
And Love
Heaven on earth
Heaven above
Finding
Striving
Improving
Movi ng
Upon wings of a dove
From star to star
From light to light
Songs of worship
Songs of praise
Fill our nights
Fill our days
With dreams for you
With dreams for me
With dreams for us
With dreams of life
From a whisper
From a star
From a book
Never opened
From a book
Never Read
Words streaming now
Between heaven and earth
Between now and eternity
To your ears
To touch a place
Never touched
To bring you home to me
To break this grip
That locks your spirit
The dream is awake
For us to live
You have waited
And stayed awake
Share the hope
Share the dream
Stay free
Stay open
Dare to give
Dare to care
Dare to move
Dare to roam
Dare to live
Dare to dare
Life is where
Ever I go
I open doors
I overflow
With heavenly sweetness
With a heavenly glow
poem by Brian Kilpatrick
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God's Rest.
I saw God in a dream go by,
As if He trod the phantom air
Within a hushed eternity,
Dead worlds around Him everywhere.
No sign of life — and God asleep!
All things absorbed in Him at last;
Nothing for Him to care for, keep,
Since thought from everything had passed.
A mystic vision on its way
His image filled the awful gloom,
As if His work were o'er for aye —
Himself His own creation's tomb!
As if, when sleep fell on Him, all
Sensation with a tremor ceased,
As all things felt the weird recall,
And the gigantic strain released.
The worlds stayed still without a breath,
Entranced within the phantom air,
Since God had done with life and death
And ta'en Himself from everywhere.
This was His Sabbath. In the past
'Tis said He rested for a day;
But this was a sleep that would last,
Since He had done with all for aye.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Written in Northampton County Asylum
I am! yet what I am who cares, or knows?
My friends forsake me like a memory lost.
I am the self-consumer of my woes;
They rise and vanish, an oblivious host,
Shadows of life, whose very soul is lost.
And yet I am—I live—though I am toss’d
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dream,
Where there is neither sense of life, nor joys,
But the huge shipwreck of my own esteem
And all that’s dear. Even those I loved the best
Are strange—nay, they are stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man has never trod—
For scenes where woman never smiled or wept—
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Full of high thoughts, unborn. So let me lie,—
The grass below; above, the vaulted sky.
poem by John Clare
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What Do You Dream About?
Have you ever met anybody who does not dream?
All of us have dreamt of something good or bad before
Some dreams are believed to foretell the future
While few dreams remind us of things we have forgotten
Other dreams are just hallucination and nightmare
What do you dream about?
Some people dream every night
While the others dream once a while
Do you dream straight or opposite?
To dream straight is to see a vision
To dream straight is to have a revelation
Is your dream good, bad or frightening?
Has your dream ever come true?
Do you day-dream or dream while you sleep?
What do you really dream about?
Politicians dream of winning elections
Students dream of passing exams
Soldiers dream of winning battles
Everybody dreams of promotion on the job
Fishermen dream of catching lots of fishes
Some men see their future wives in a vision
Few women see their future husbands in a dream
Almost everybody dreams of winning the lottery
What do you actually dream about?
Many see their enemies in a dream
Few see their true friends in a vision
Others found solutions to their problems in a dream
Can we live on earth without dreaming?
Your answer is as good as mine
Whatever you may dream about
I hope your good dreams come true
poem by Julius Babarinsa
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I Dream to Roam
I dream to roam
To see the grass
Just over the hill
I dream to roam
To ride my horse
Wherever I will
I dream to roam
Over the prairies
Beneath the sky
I dream to roam
Across the plains
As the hawk cries
I dream to roam
My face to the wind
As I ride my steed
I dream to roam
Wherever this lonely
Trail may lead
I Dream To Roam
I dream to roam
To see the grass
Just over the hill
I dream to roam
To ride my horse
Wherever I will
I dream to roam
Over the prairies
Beneath the sky
I dream to roam
Across the plains
As the hawk cries
I dream to roam
My face to the wind
As I ride my steed
I dream to roam
Wherever this lonely
Trail may lead
poem by Horse Poet
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The Dying Queen
"I would meet death awake."
The strength that bore her on for years
Was ebbing fast away,
And o'er the pale and lifep;worn face,
Death's solemn shadows lay.
With tender love and gentle care,
Friends gathered round her bed,
And for her sake each footfall hushed
The echoes of its tread.
They knew the restlessness of death
Through every nerve did creep,
And carefully they tried to lull
The dying Queen to sleep.
In vain she felt Death's icy hand
Her failing heart-strings shake;
And, rousing up, she firmly said,
"I'd meet my God awake."
Awake, I've met the battle's shock,
And born the cares of state;
Nor shall I take your lethean cup,
And slumber at death's gate.
Did I not watch with eyes alert,
The path where foes did tend;
And shall I veil my eyes with sleep,
To meet my God and friend?
Nay, rather from my weary lids,
This heavy slumber shake,
That I may pass the mystic vale,
And meet my God awake.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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To Mrs. K--,
WHAT crowding thoughts around me wake,
What marvels in a Christmas-cake!
Ah say, what strange enchantment dwells
Enclos'd within its od'rous cells?
Is there no small magician bound
Encrusted in its snowy round?
For magic surely lurks in this,
A cake that tells of vanish'd bliss;
A cake that conjures up to view
The early scenes, when life was new;
When mem'ry knew no sorrows past,
And hope believ'd in joys that last!--
Mysterious cake, whose folds contain
Life's calendar of bliss and pain;
That speaks of friends for ever fled,
And wakes the tears I love to shed.
Oft shall I breathe her cherish'd name
From whose fair hand the off'ring came:
For she recalls the artless smile
Of nymphs that deck my native Isle;
Of beauty that we love to trace,
Allied with tender, modest grace;
Of those who, while abroad they roam,
Retain each charm that gladdens home,
And whose dear friendship can impart
A Christmas banquet for the heart!
poem by Helen Maria Williams
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a Path to Take
A path can lead you in many directions like love or death.
So let the tears rain from the ones in pain
and yet he still walks a path filled with sorrow
so he trys to drink the pain away even his daughter stands in the back trying to save the one that gave her life.
Now she crys in pain while he drinks himself to death.
And all she can do is stand and whatch unless he changes
and lets go everything for the daughter that he once loved.
poem by Cody Christiansen
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Dared Dream
Dare to dream
Of happiness and Fate
Dream of the life
That we can make
Dare to dream
Of sadness and sorrow
Dream of the possibilities
That can happen tomorrow.
Dare to dream
Of a life that doesn’t end
Dream of Eternal Happiness
With all of your friends
Dare to dream
Of the things you can’t see
Come on, take the risk
Dare to dream with me.
poem by Anthony Zeigler
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Sleep Here to arise some where!
Life is a dream
only a dream
Not full of cream
Only we scream,
In Joy or pain
All that is vain,
When we lose restrain
We take too much strain,
only to fall in pain!
Life is life all around,
No meaning ever found,
Only going round and round
From space to ground
Ground to space is another
round!
Life has several crew
anyone can any moment screw
Everyone is captain
Aim is to contain
By that restrain,
Love and life simply both teach and Train
Without any strain!
So many people sigh
And say
To hell with this world,
Look into their eyes,
They live in the hell
they are not well, For them nothing is well,
Only like that they tell,
Somewhere their feathered hat
of pride fell!
Life is a dream,
And a dream Only continued indefinitely,
It is dream in which
We feel the difference between
real and dream,
Reality is deep sleep,
And slept long before somewhere,
Arise here to sleep Someday,
Only to awaken in dream!
Death is that sleep,
From this house carries only to
give another house!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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A Battle
An effort to forsake you,
A desire to remember,
Strange are the perplexities,
Abased on the path;
Strange is the helplessness,
That on each decision,
Irresolute is the heart.
An effort to forsake you,
A desire to remember,
In fact is the life.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Our Ephemeral Life on Earth
Like how the heavens open bringing rain,
God’s blessings will too shower, once again,
In His own time and in His divine ways,
And make our life on earth happier in pace!
A little strife can make our face sullen;
A little suffering can life, dullen;
A little wait is all God wants of us;
A little patience brings us endless bliss!
Why should we fret and fume and cry in haste?
Why should we call our life a total waste?
All things on earth are transient in type;
Our joys in life bestow on us some hype.
This earth and heaven shall all pass away,
And come will Jesus Christ on Judgment Day;
A new heaven and earth, He will usher,
Rewarding righteous souls in great measure.
Why don’t we praise the Lord in times of strife?
Why shouldn’t we thank Him for our unique life?
Why do we grumble, mumble, murmur then?
Our life on earth is meant to gain heaven!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 8-31-2007
poem by John Celes
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Awake, My Heart
Awake, my heart, to be loved, awake, awake!
The darkness silvers away, the morn doth break,
It leaps in the sky: unrisen lustres slake
The o'ertaken moon. Awake, O heart, awake!
She too that loveth awaketh and hopes for thee:
Her eyes already have sped the shades that flee,
Already they watch the path thy feet shall take:
Awake, O heart, to be loved, awake, awake!
And if thou tarry from her, - if this could be, -
She cometh herself, O heart, to be loved, to thee;
For thee would unashamed herself forsake:
Awake, to be loved, my heart, awake, awake!
Awake! The land is scattered with light, and see,
Uncanopied sleep is flying from field and tree;
And blossoming boughs of April in laughter shake:
Awake, O heart, to be loved, awake, awake!
Lo, all things wake and tarry and look for thee:
She looketh and saith, "O sun, now bring him to me.
Come, more adored, O adored, for his coming's sake,
And awake, my heart, to be loved, awake, awake!"
poem by Robert Seymour Bridges
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Teaching the Hardened Youth
Teaching to hardened youth
Anger, Cold, Hard Anger
The eyes Hateful, his face pinched
How dare I try to tell him
That his choices brought him this.
Why is this important?
This is a waste of time.
Leave me alone witch
My future is mine to find.
These skills I try and teach you
Will make that future prime
It isn't in the details
But in the use of your mind.
People will try and manipulate
To use you for their own
You need to be smarter
And Walk your path alone
Friends will always be there
Some will lead the way
Others will block your path
To improve their life another day.
You are an individual
You allow others to make the rules
Questions every reason
Or be their little fool.
Your brain is your treasure
The more you use the more you have
Step up to the plate
And find your own path
Be educated in your choices
Know what it is your want
Always seek the answers
Your intelligence to flaunt
It is cool to be the dumb kid
Middle School is a pain
The future is coming
Try not to disdain.
I fight this fight today
I fought it yesterday
I believe in the future
This youth will lead the way.
He is full of anger
They are all overcome by hate
They are frightened and alone
And terrified of the worlds fate.
We have left them a mess
A broken planet from excess
A fragmented democracy
A future filled with stress
Support them as I can
Teach them to believe
For it is in their minds
That one solution we need.
poem by Lori Christensen
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I Am
I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;
And yet I am! and live like shadows tossed
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
And e'en the dearest--that I loved the best--
Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smil'd or wept;
There to abide with my creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;
The grass below--above the vaulted sky.
poem by John Clare (1865)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Im Awake Now
Ive been where the river ran
Im drownin in a sunless sea
Sleep has helped me find my end
You promised me youd set me free
Dont fall asleep to dream
A banshees at my window pane
Theres an angel at my feet
Dont fall asleep to dream
Im awake now
(you cant touch me, I wont sleep no more)
Awake now
In the corner of my mind
Where he sits and waits for me
Theres a wall of confusion building
And the sky begins to bleed on me
Dont fall asleep to dream
Im looking for a way out now
Peace of mind is all I need
Dont fall asleep to dream
Im awake now
(you cant touch me, I wont sleep no more)
Awake now
(you cant touch me, I wont sleep no more)
Awake now
(you cant touch me, I wont sleep no more)
Awake now
Awake now
Awake now
Awake now
Awake now
song performed by by Goo Goo Dolls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Live Heavenly-Wise
Two goals in life, we ought to keep in mind:
The transient one’s to live, a life content;
The celestial one’s more important, we find;
To get the latter, our mind must be bent.
The man who lives as per His Holy Will,
Is troubled much on earth by more devils;
And suffers pain and sadness much but still,
Through prayer keeps away from all evils.
The man who lives a worldly-life does well;
His senses fail to recognize what’s sin;
His sinful life will surely earn him Hell;
You can’t have earthly pleasures and Heaven!
The righteous man who lives as per God’s wish,
His living for God’s sake, and not selfish.
6-30-2001
poem by John Celes
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A Gothic Horror
Thank you for representing life as a Gothic horror
with the nerve-wrecking shocks of demented men,
dad as Heathcliff, mom as Mr Rochester’s mad first
wife and you a strange mixture between Jane Eyre
and the rebellious Catherine
Thank you for recreating ‘Great Expectations’ in which
you are Pip, for describing your life in Sherwood with
Robin Hood among the criminal poor, adding scenes
of the Phantom’s life in his nightmare underworld lair,
yet, I cannot share the stage with you
I am following the narrative imperative of Pratchett’s
Discworld series, applying Mary Poppins’ advice in a
wild dance through the mutable universe depicted in
Bedknobs and Broomsticks - balancing this edifice
with ideals and visions; therefore
Thank you for adding Edgar Allan Poe and Artemis
Fowl to the pastoral scenes of my slow-moving life,
I shall remember you believe that intrigue is the
staple of life as I am sitting quietly, waiting for
the White Rabbit to pass by again…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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