Fate's Watershed Awaits Ahead 1722
I who was king, taught all to sing, when Greenland still was green,
scoff at the way most homage pay today to progress crowned.
Fat profit's ring, its scorpion sting shall strike, spike anguish keen,
oh lack a day! Man's lost his way, with motives so unsound.
I who foresaw from shore to shore how wonderlust would mean
no stone unturned, deserved, ill earned, in search of mirage dreams
when rotten core exploits the poor, when little in between
extremes is learned, with justice spurned and bridges burned it seems.
I who remain in etching plain, on bone forever set
call all to see that history for vengeance cries aloud.
Fate's watershed awaits ahead to help this world forget
that man once walked, at nothing balked, to stand out from the crowd,
exploiting earth throughout its girth, ambitions daily whet
by hubris swank and reasons rank, by ways in which rank proud
sought to oppress, yet nonetheless Time, grinning, will not let
poor jokes to last, and very fast shall flood man's pride low bowed.
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Quatrain #247 - The earth is a vast holy place....
The earth is a vast holy place yet we desecrate it so much
and of the secret ways of nature we have mostly lost touch.
In our pursuit of knowledge progress leaves no stone unturned
yet most of that we know, from the humble earth, have learned.
poem by George Krokos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
By Default By Design
By default by design
Time after time
Maybe you earned it,
Maybe you spurned it
But you got it...
You got it
Call it attraction or charm
Sound the alarm
Maybe you earned it,
Maybe you spurned it
But you got it...
Yes, you got it
Breaking hearts your speciality?
Why did you ever have to come so close to me
Was it love or morbid curiosity?
Either way Id say that loves a possibility
Come a little closer,
Let me see you in close detail
The object of my affections
Walked off in the other direction
By default by design
Time after time
Maybe you earned it,
Maybe you spurned it
But you got it...
You got it
Call it attraction or charm
Sound the alarm
Maybe you earned it,
Maybe you spurned it
But you got it...
Yes, you got it
Modern day romeos,
Modern day juliets
Selling their love for a packet of cigarettes
Still I remember the day that we first met...
And yet so far, so good
So what else can we ever expect?
Come a little closer, let me see you in close detail
The object of my affections walked off in the other direction
By default by design
Time after time
Maybe you earned it,
Maybe you spurned it
But you got it...
You got it
Call it attraction or charm
Sound the alarm
Maybe you earned it,
Maybe you spurned it
But you got it...
Yes, you got it
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Acrostic Sonnet 1991
Now mankind nears the watershed of Fate,
In time of trouble framed by clouds of war
New-gathered in the Middle East, the core
Eternal of religious love and hate.
The days are numbered. Meanwhile, we await
Explosively the order to withdraw,
Excessive brinkmanship won't help the poor,
Nor ease the tensions that accumulate.
Not by the oily s[tr]and strip called Kuwait
Is the reply found for fair freedom's shore
Ne'er seemed so distant, and a tidal bore
Existence threatens. Is it not too late?
Take care elsewhere. Beware the mirage. State,
Youth undermines. Underemployment's sore
O'erspreads the world, a cancer, more and more
New disappointment fosters, may create
Escape valves which illusions prove too late.
(1 January 1991)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Drifting Too Far
Out on the perilous deep,
Where danger silently creeps,
And storm's so violently sweeping,
You're drifting too far from shore.
Chorus:
Drifting too far from shore,
You're drifting too far from shore,
Come to Jesus today,
Let Him show you the way
You're drifting too far from shore.
Today, the Tempest rose high,
And clouds o'er shadow the sky.
Sure death is hovering neigh,
You're drifting too far from shore.
Drifting too far from shore,
You're drifting too far from shore,
Come to Jesus today,
Let Him show you the way
You're drifting too far from shore.
Why meet a terrible fate?
Mercies abundantly wait.
Turn back before it's too late
You're drifting too far from shore.
Drifting too far from shore
You're drifting too far from shore (peaceful shore)
Come to Jesus today. Let him show you the way
You're drifting too far from shore...
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: A Nation in Chaos
When freedom got is misused by those freed,
When citizen has nothing to call ‘his’,
When fellowmen’s lives are ignored indeed,
How can a country forge ahead like this?
When unity is just a namesake word,
When divisions are by caste, status, creed,
When civilized men behave like man-herd,
And millions poor remain and cannot feed.
When scams in crores happ’ning are written off,
When justice is denied or much delayed;
When corruption is rampant, yet all laugh,
And labor sans dignity is ill-paid.
How can a nation, people say they’re proud?
‘Accursed be they’- my heart cries out aloud.
9-25-2002
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Unfit
With younger men he takes his stand,
To the recruiting-sergeant nigh,
Sees others chosen: lifts a hand
In hopes to catch the unwilling eye,
While his mood turns to black despair
Heedless of those that grin and stare.
Careless of jibe and jeer he waits,
Thrusts himself where the eye must fall,
A voice, indifferent as Fate's,
Orders 'Stand back!' and that is all.
'Too old!' He steps down to make room
For younger men more slow to come.
Too old at fifty! But he feels
There's lots of fighting in him yet.
Some hint of glory lifts, reveals,
In the smirched days he would forget.
They might blot out the shameful past
If he fell fighting at the last.
If he could meet them, one poor rag
Of glory cast about his shame --
One rag of glory! England's flag
Wrapping in splendour his poor frame!
And all the people he once knew
Saying 'He died as white men do!'
Mirage! Such dreams as come with sleep!
And he is innocent and small,
Running through orchard grasses deep
To his dead mother's tender call;
Before he broke her heart and bowed
His father's comely head and proud.
There's nothing left to hope for more.
Poor fool, to think he might atone!
He sees in a mist a fast-shut door.
Shambling and blear-eyed and alone
He goes, and darkness covers him,
Who saw the glory and the gleam.
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Man's a Man for A' That
Is there for honest Poverty
That hings his head, an' a' that;
The coward slave-we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that.
Our toils obscure an' a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The Man's the gowd for a' that.
What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hodden grey, an' a that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
A Man's a Man for a' that:
For a' that, and a' that,
Their tinsel show, an' a' that;
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.
Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,
Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that:
For a' that, an' a' that,
His ribband, star, an' a' that:
The man o' independent mind
He looks an' laughs at a' that.
A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that;
But an honest man's abon his might,
Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their dignities an' a' that;
The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.
Then let us pray that come it may,
(As come it will for a' that,)
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's coming yet for a' that,
That Man to Man, the world o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Let America be America Again
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.
(It never was America to me.)
O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.
(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")
Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!
I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.
Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."
The free?
Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.
O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!
O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!
Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!
poem by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Throne of Bone
He sits upon a throne of bone
Sits and waits much like a stone
Waits for the perfect time to strike
To strike the rich and poor alike
To raise the world until it dies
To torture men until they cry
To reduce the world to ash and smoke
To walk upon it would mean to choke
Til’ rivers run with blood alone
Til’ the world is filled with all men’s bones
To raise to world to ash and dust
To destroy mankind is Satan’s lust
To take the world to call his own
He waits upon his throne of bone
poem by Tim Vallie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Success
You ask me what I call Success -
It is, I wonder, Happiness?
It is not wealth, it is not fame,
Nor rank, nor power nor honoured name.
It is not triumph in the Arts -
Best-selling books or leading parts.
It is not plaudits of the crowd,
The flame of flags, processions proud.
The panegyrics of the Press
are but the mirage of Success.
You may have all of them, my friend,
Yet be a failure in the end.
I've know proud Presidents of banks
Who've fought their way up from the ranks,
And party leaders of renown
Who played as boys in Shantytown.
Strong, self-made men, yet seek to trace
Benignity in any face;
Grim purpose, mastery maybe,
Yet never sweet serenity;
Never contentment, thoughts that bless -
That mellow joy I deem Success.
The haply seek some humble hearth,
Quite poor in goods yet rich in mirth,
And see a man of common clay
Watching his little ones at play;
A laughing fellow full of cheer,
Health, strength and faith that mocks at fear;
Who for his happiness relies
On joys he lights in other eyes;
He loves his home and envies none. . . .
Who happier beneath the sun?
Aye, though he walk in lowly ways,
Shining Success has crowned his days.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Drifting Too Far From The Shore
(traditional)
Out on the perilous deep,
Where danger silently creeps,
And storms so violently sweeping,
Youre drifting too far from shore.
Chorus: drifting too far from shore,
Youre drifting too far from shore,
Come to jesus today,
Let him show you the way.
Youre drifting too far from shore,
Today, the tempest rose high,
And clouds oershadow the sky.
Sure death is hovering nigh,
Youre drifting too far from shore.
Drifting too far from shore,
Youre drifting too far from shore,
Come to jesus today,
Let him show you the way.
Youre drifting too far from shore,
Why meet a terrible fate?
Mercies abundantly wait.
Turn back before its too late
Youre drifting too far from shore.
Drifting too far from shore
Youre drifting too far from shore (peaceful shore)
Come to jesus today. let him show you the way
Youre drifting too far from shore.
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Green Dot
A green dot was wandering one day,
Where is its spot, where it can lay! ,
It delayed its arrival,
And all the green is now gone,
The green dot is wandering searching,
Goofing the streets under rain and thunder,
It moves fast and slow, gradual run,
From the shore, to the bays,
When it was deceived by the beauty of trees,
What beauty can it see, but she wasn’t comfee,
Because it wasn’t that green,
What green it could be?
What green does it belong?
It don’t know, but the search seemed to be long,
Oh! Lil green dot, lil green dot,
What is this mess all about?
The lil green dot missed its way,
And now it dun no where to stay,
Where are the other green, where is its stain?
Forever the search, Forever it will feel the pain,
To be away from the other green dots.
poem by Mustafa Ghuneim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For a' That and a' That
1 Is there, for honest poverty,
2 That hings his head, an' a' that?
3 The coward slave, we pass him by,
4 We dare be poor for a' that!
5 For a' that, an' a' that,
6 Our toils obscure, an' a' that;
7 The rank is but the guinea's stamp;
8 The man's the gowd for a' that,
9 What tho' on hamely fare we dine,
10 Wear hoddin-gray, an' a' that;
11 Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
12 A man's a man for a' that.
13 For a' that, an' a' that,
14 Their tinsel show an' a' that;
15 The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
16 Is king o' men for a' that.
17 Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord
18 Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;
19 Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
20 He's but a coof for a' that:
21 For a' that, an' a' that,
22 His riband, star, an' a' that,
23 The man o' independent mind,
24 He looks and laughs at a' that.
25 A prince can mak a belted knight,
26 A marquis, duke, an' a' that;
27 But an honest man's aboon his might,
28 Guid faith he mauna fa' that!
29 For a' that, an' a' that,
30 Their dignities, an' a' that,
31 The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,
32 Are higher rank than a' that.
33 Then let us pray that come it may,
34 As come it will for a' that,
35 That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
36 May bear the gree, an' a' that.
37 For a' that, an' a' that,
38 It's coming yet, for a' that,
39 That man to man, the warld o'er,
40 Shall brothers be for a' that.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Poor
God is with the poor
But do the poor know God is with them?
As they look out from the crowd
Lost in their 'man made prison'
God is with the poor
But do the poor know God is with them?
As they look up to the proud
Who looks back with derision
And who can tell the poor that God is with them?
He who paints angel wings on ragged backs?
Makes hungry mouths sing for their supper
He who nothing lacks?
Who poorer still can say God is with us?
When homeless turn away from too much fuss
But God is with them
Is he with us?
And poorer still in having more
But never having too much
Who can say then God is with us?
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The One You Despise
Mother, I must warn you, you've come to look the fool
For, in attempt to teach me life, you've broken every rule.
You say that I should stand proud, because my ancestors were black
Yet for the ones of white and red my pride must somehow lack
You told me to feel handsome, be proud of what I see
And yet, 'Big, black and ugly, ' is all you say to me
Then manners, you tried on me to press
And handsome grooming, with proper dress
But then, you offer no respect,
And, still, from me, perfection expect
And, now, you say it's time to go
And, at eighteen, it's time. I know.
And though I love you I must away
Though, never knowing just how to say,
'I'm sorry'
The one you despise is always there
She's taught me respect, loving and care
She's taught me pride, in my ancestors, all
Because I am me, that's enough to stand tall
She's shown me the beauty in others too
She's even shown me the beauty in you.
She's taught me manners, how to get along
That appreciation and respect should be strong.
She does not worship me as you say, but offers me respect
And even with my imperfection, my trying, she accepts
Were it not for her, when I was in LA
I could hurt myself, or run away
So go ahead, Mother, and call her a whore
You'll only draw me away from you more.
'I'm sorry.'
poem by Wakefield Mahon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Barren Shore
Full many sing to me and thee
Their riches gather'd by the sea;
But I will sing, for I'm footsore,
The burthen of the barren shore.
The hue of love how lively shown
In this sole found cerulean stone
By twenty leagues of ocean roar.
O, burthen of the barren shore!
And these few crystal fragments bright,
As clear as truth, as strong as right,
I found in footing twenty more.
O, burthen of the barren shore!
And how far did I go for this
Small, precious piece of ambergris?
Of weary leagues I went threescore.
O, burthen of the barren shore!
The sand is poor, the sea is rich,
And I, I am I know not which;
And well it were to know no more
The burthen of the barren shore!
poem by Coventry Patmore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Psalm 10
Arise oh God and lift up your hand
For all around the wicked do stand
Like a lion in the den, they secretly wait
Crouched at the door, waiting at the gate
To devour the just and destroy without cause
To oppress the poor and all without pause
And no appeal to the wicked can make them budge
They neither consider their end, nor consider the Judge
Who is the Lord and King forever
And who holds time in His hand
It you Lord, bringing justice to the fatherless
And causing the righteous to stand
And on that day, when the Lord takes His place
The wicked will hide, they will cover their face
And they will cry out ' we were ignorant you see'
Yet forever in darkness they forever shall be
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Affect Forever
We Affect Forever
We are making history, through every day we spend.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark that will not end.
Others before have left behind this world we now obtain.
Though it’s changed since way back when, the old shall always remain.
History is how we got here, history is who we are.
History is what led to this, yes history is not far.
It remains within our families, its tradition and unchanging ways.
It’s Christmas day, Thanksgiving, its countless nights and days.
History is what you’re becoming; it’s what you are soon to be.
And history never dies; it’s a part of everybody.
We fight to maintain who we are, to maintain who we’ve always been.
And while we fight we know this fight is not easy to win.
Many forget the past, and many never even know,
Many people never hear of how times were long ago.
Those thousands of years before us, are more than just time spent.
They are filled with real people, real feelings, and real places that they went.
The People had different life styles very different from our ways,
But it is true that there is nothing knew under the sun’s golden rays.
Stand proud to be alive, know you affect forever.
Every act that we commit we all commit together.
We are entrusted with this earth; we must love and cherish this life.
We must remember to love our existence lest love becomes our strife.
Yes we are becoming history, through every move we make.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark ……or perhaps a mistake.
poem by Mary Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
History In The Making
history was in the making on this very day
where Barack Obama became the 44th president of the u.s.a.
for two years he campaigned across this nation of ours
and brought to light, graft and political power.
he brought to light that it was 'time for change'
and this country will never be the same.
he tore down the walls of discrimination
and oppression in this land
and told america it was time to take a stand.
he showed the people that freedom can ring
and made this nation stand up and sing.
no other inauguration in the history of man
could compare to this in our promised land.
the world had been watching every move we make
of that there is no mistake.
and the only thing that this world could see
'was abe lincoln sitting in his chair'
happy faces every where.
the dreams of simple men this day came to life
when the first black president
stood there with his wife.
Lincoln, Kennedy, King, to name just a few
have finally gotten to see their dreams come true.
equality is what we sought
and for equality is what we fought.
this was the dream of this nation
this dream is our salvation
so america we stand with pride
for in this land freedom rides.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
King of Kings
Faith calls the innocent of the hearts, a disciples that
believes only the One, who pre-existed before time, the
giver of everything, who creates the immortal and the
mortal, beings, in this wonderful paradise of man
salvation birth, the renewal of that call, for the Father in
heaven awaits every faithful sons and daughters, to the
kingdom of where the citizen glorify His name, a zeal that
every soul is welcome to the place where once we are in
God's loving arms.
through baptism, we are anointed to be king, and we are
Call to be spread the gospel, the good news of salvation,
indeed the disciples of God; the Allah, the Adonai, Jesus
and the giver of life, it is a calling of priesthood to care the
poor and the lowly people of God, for to be king is to serve
the chosen one of the citizen in heaven.
now is the hour to serve, to guide, to lend our talents and
abilities, the potentials of what has given is to be shared
to the needy, to the afflicted, to the poor, who lost hope and
leave their aspiration to the one whom God chosen.
leave not every soul unturned to the gate of hell, let not
your heart harden to the call until it ends in a due time, nor
close your wisdom to answer the exploited, but rather be on
guard and protect the humble of hearts and stand for their
right to live.
Citizen in heaven, leave nothing to despair the Kings of
King in our kingdom to come......you are chosen to be
king.....anointed to be disciple and call to be the priest of
generation to come.
..........our faith leads us in our HEARTS to a call to Serve
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!