Steel on Steel
Strength in each and every part
needs no paltry poet's art
to picture peerless tensile worth
which rhymes through time in class apart
to show glow's incandescent birth.
Hammers heated chain links bind
furnace features, anvil mind,
steel represents upon this Earth.
From forceful freedom's furnace find
fragility, flaws left behind.
18 October 2011
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Iron till it be thoroughly heated is incapable to be wrought; so God sees good to cast some men into the furnace of affliction, and then beats them on his anvil into what frame he pleases.
quote by Anne Bradstreet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Our Crucible Gifts
this is our crucible
our trial by fire
in molten furnace
we are smeltered
by conflict ordeals
we like ores dug
from yield earth
contain impurities
imperfections
character flaws
we fail to rise above
which limits nobility
of mind impedes us
from quest embracing
enlightening harmony
catalysis furnace
is severe ordeal
life trials killing
off fatal our soul
impurities as iron
ore is tortured
in blast furnace
so are we tortured
broken crushed
liquefied recast
reshaped into new
being like iron ore
we are born free
of dross slag purified
into finest pure steel
thus experience
insight vision
pierces perplexing
problematic realities
with pulse passion’s
need we gift
unguarded
“noblest prayers
to bestow upon
others an eternity
of light
in beautified
likeness of purity
immortality'
fleeting moments
Quotation from the poem ‘An Eternity Of Light’ by Terence George Craddock.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Revolution
I finally broke into the prison,
I found my place in the chain.
Even damnation is poisoned with rainbows,
all the brave young men
they're waiting now to see a signal
which some killer will be lighting for pay.
Into this furnace I ask you now to venture,
you whom I cannot betray.
I fought in the old revolution
on the side of the ghost and the King.
Of course I was very young
and I thought that we were winning;
I can't pretend I still feel very much like singing
as they carry the bodies away.
Into this furnace I ask you now to venture...
Lately you've started to stutter
as though you had nothing to say.
To all of my architects let me be traitor.
Now let me say I myself gave the order
to sleep and to search and to destroy.
Into this furnace I ask you now to venture...
Yes, you who are broken by power,
you who are absent all day,
you who are kings for the sake of your children's story,
the hand of your beggar is burdened down with money,
the hand of your lover is clay.
Into this furnace I ask you now to venture
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Revolution
I finally broke into the prison,
I found my place in the chain.
Even damnation is poisoned with rainbows,
All the brave young men
Theyre waiting now to see a signal
Which some killer will be lighting for pay.
Into this furnace I ask you now to venture,
You whom I cannot betray.
I fought in the old revolution
On the side of the ghost and the king.
Of course I was very young
And I thought that we were winning;
I cant pretend I still feel very much like singing
As they carry the bodies away.
Into this furnace I ask you now to venture...
Lately youve started to stutter
As though you had nothing to say.
To all of my architects let me be traitor.
Now let me say I myself gave the order
To sleep and to search and to destroy.
Into this furnace I ask you now to venture...
Yes, you who are broken by power,
You who are absent all day,
You who are kings for the sake of your childrens story,
The hand of your beggar is burdened down with money,
The hand of your lover is clay.
Into this furnace I ask you now to venture...
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Four In The Furnace (Bible Poems For Children)
In a far away
land,
Lived a wicked
king.
He prayed to
idols and things.
He told his
people,
Where the idol
stood.
They must pray,
and be good.
Into a furnace,
you will go,
If you, do not bow
low.
Three christian
men, lived there,
Believed in God,
All the way from
Israel they
trod.
Bow, the king,
told them so,
We believe in God,
our answer is no.
Make a fire, hot
as can be.
Who is your God?
We shall see.
Into the furnace,
you will go,
I'll test your God,
then we will know.
In the furnace, the
king saw four.
Quickly, he shouted,
open the door.
Your God is in the
furnace, I see,
I now, resign my
decree.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet’s Thought
TELL me, what is a poet’s thought?
Is it on the sudden born?
Is it from the starlight caught?
Is it by the tempest taught,
Or by whispering morn?
Was it cradled in the brain?
Chain’d awhile, or nurs’d in night?
Was it wrought with toil and pain?
Did it bloom and fade again,
Ere it burst to light?
No more question of its birth:
Rather love its better part!
’T is a thing of sky and earth,
Gathering all its golden worth
From the Poet’s heart.
poem by Barry Cornwall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chain Of Life
Every chain is made of links
just as our life befalls.
Each time we met someone
whether it is near or far
we add another link to our chain of life.
As our years, multiply
so will the links on our chain.
When we lose a link,
we find another to replace it
and our chain of life goes on.
19 May 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet that Prayed
A precious pilgrim poet prayed
Because no words would come,
He asked God if he'd disobeyed,
Because his heart felt numb...
A vision formed within his mind,
Like none he'd seen before,
With white-hot furnace gold refined
God stretched from shore to shore...
Like molten lava from the Lord,
The streets were paved with gold...
As if God's grace had been outpoured
For all men to behold...
As if the old paths must be changed,
Transformed by Jesus Christ
And once the streets were rearranged,
God's might was realised...
Thus those that fled could now return,
When God made all things new,
With wonders they could share and learn,
To know what they must do...
The poet asked the Lord's advice,
Were these streets here on Earth,
Or were they streets in Paradise
And of some future worth?
The Lord replied, the streets were those
Where Gospel truths are taught...
Where love can blossom like the rose,
Through peace that Christ has bought...
His Blood atones for souls set free,
No matter, young or old...
It's by our faith in Calvary,
Saints' streets are paved with gold...
(July 2011)
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shall I Tell You That Once We Were Broken And Unconnected Pieces?
when you find a chain
pick it up
when i find my chain
i pick it up to
and then when we meet
we connect these chains
like some missing links
and then when bound
together we will shout
our newly found freedom
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Does The Sun Shine
The sun is a mass of incandescent gas
A gigantic nuclear furnace
Where hydrogen is built into helium
At a temperature of millions of degrees
Yo ho, its hot, the sun is not
A place where we could live
But here on earth thered be no life
Without the light it gives
We need its light
We need its heat
We need its energy
Without the sun, without a doubt
Thered be no you and me
The sun is a mass of incandescent gas
A gigantic nuclear furnace
Where hydrogen is built into helium
At a temperature of millions of degrees
The sun is hot
It is so hot that everything on it is a gas: iron, copper, aluminum, and many others.
The sun is large
If the sun were hollow, a million earths could fit inside. and yet, the sun is only a middle-sized star.
The sun is far away
About 93 million miles away, and thats why it looks so small.
And even when its out of sight
The sun shines night and day
The sun gives heat
The sun gives light
The sunlight that we see
The sunlight comes from our own suns
Atomic energy
Scientists have found that the sun is a huge atom-smashing machine. the heat and light of the sun come from the nuclear reactions of hydrogen, carbon, nitrogen, and helium.*
The sun is a mass of incandescent gas
A gigantic nuclear furnace
Where hydrogen is built into helium
At a temperature of millions of degrees
Notes
*live versions of this song are improvised extensively. some variants on this section:
Scientists have found that the sun is a huge atom-smashing machine. the heat and light of the sun are caused by the nuclear reaction between hydrogen, nitrogen, carbon, and helium.
Scientists have found that the sun is a huge atom-smashing machine. the heat and light from the sun come from the nuclear reaction between oxygen, hydrogen, helium, and hydrogen.
You know, frank, scientists have found that the sun is a huge atom-smashing machine. the heat and light from the sun are caused by the nuclear reaction between hydrogen and you, frank otoole.
Scientists have found that the sun is a huge atom-smashing machine. the heat and light from the sun come from the nuclear reaction between hydrogen, nitrogen, helium, carbon, boron, chloron, flu
Moron, and estrogen.
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tiger's Rumour and other Parodies William Blake - The Tyger
Tyger’s Rumour
Rumour rushing rampant right
round faithless forests of wraith night,
what immoral hand or eye
could frame fly tearless symmetry?
In what deep and dark disguise
spread irking libel, lurking lies?
on what wasp wings dare they aspire –
e’er slander sting tongues air fame liar?
What woeful infamous black art
wrung toxic sinews, tocsin heart
rung when sin heart broke cheating beat,
what sleight of hand to greet deceit!
What wrong's hammer, what strong chain?
in what furnace forged? What brain
fed wily worms sly envy's [g]rasp,
bred spiteful deadly [t]errors’ [g]asp?
11 December 1991 revised 18 September 2009 robi3_0504_blak1_0003 PXX_JXX for previous version see below
Parody William BLAKE 1757_1827 The Tyger
Tyger’s Rumour
Rumour rushing rampant right
round faithless forests of wraith night,
what immortal hand or eye
could frame fly tearless symmetry?
In what deep and dark disguise
spread irking libel, lurking lies?
On what wasp wings dare they aspire –
e’er slander sting tongues air fame liar?
What woeful infamous black art
wrung toxic sinews, tocsin heart
rung when sin heart broke cheating beat,
what sleight of hand to greet deceit!
What wrong's hammer, what strong chain?
In what furnace forged? What brain
fed wily worms sly envy's [g]rasp,
bred them deadly, errors’ [g]asp?
11 December 1991 revised 18 September 2009 robi3_0504_blak1_0003 PXX_JXX
The Tyger
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes!
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare sieze the fire!
And what shoulder, and what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand! and what dread feet!
What the hammer! what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain
What the anvil, what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!
When the stars threw down their spear
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see
Did he who made the Lamb make thee!
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry!
William BLAKE 1757_1827
________
Tyger's Eye
Tyger Tyger, once again
we'll praise your uncontested reign
where golden eye implies rebirth,
of jungle lord's word none constrain.
From distant deeps of tropic skies.
to forests sparse where eagle flies,
your power ripples round world's girth -
how could it e'er be otherwise?
Strength in each and every part
needs no paltry poet's art
to illustrate your peerless worth
which rhymes through time in class apart.
Neither hammer, chain, may blind
furnace features, anvil mind,
you represent upon this Earth
both force and freedom none may bind.
[c] Jonathan Robin - parody William Blake written 27 June 2008 robi3_1775_blak1_0003 PXX_CNX
Tiger Siberian and Riga Balterian
Riga, Riga, brave despite
Russian army’s aimless might,
what eternal summer sky
could liberate thy people’s sigh?
Though the hammer, sickle, chain
sickly are, they still remain
a present threat, their might and main
must from within be toppled! – Plain?
Fifty years the Russian reign
ignomious has spread red stain,
fifty years too much! – again
freedom comes, no dumb refrain.
Riga, Riga, free from fright
soon, before the New Year’s Night,
independence will attain –
light and laughter come again...
© Jonathan Robin – Parody written 1 October 1991 – Parody William BLAKE – The Tyger
The Tiger
Tigre! Tigre! L’étincelle
du fond des forêts de la nuit,
quel oeil, quelle main immortelle
firent ta terrible symétrie?
Dans quelles lointaines cimes, abîmes,
prit feu la puissance en tes yeux?
quelles ailes osèrent le sublime?
quel Promothée osa ce feu?
Quelle force et savoir-faire
pliaient les muscles de ton coeur
quand ce coeur fit son tonnerre,
quelle main forte et quelle ardeur?
Quelle chaîne et quel marteau,
de quel four sort ta cervelle?
quelle enclume? Quelle poignée
défia ces terreurs mortelles?
Quand les étoiles envoient leurs dards,
versant leurs larmes au Paradis,
a-t-il souri voyant son art?
qui fit l’agneau fit toi aussi?
Tigre, Tigre! L’étincelle
du fond des forêts de la nuit,
quel oeil, quelle main immortelle,
firent ta terrible symétrie?
© Jonathan Robin – Parody written 26 January 1993 – Parody William BLAKE – The Tyger
Likable Wilma
Wilma, Wilma, in thy blouse,
Red-haired prehistoric spouse,
What immortal animator
Was thy slender waist's creator?
When the Rubble clan moved in,
Was Betty jealous of thy skin,
Thy noble nose, thy dimpled knee?
Did he who penciled Fred draw thee?
Wilma, Wilma, burning bright, ye
Cartoon goddess Aphrodite,
Was it Hanna or Barbera
Made thee hot as some caldera?
Francis HEANEY Anagram Parody William BLAKE – The Tiger
HEANEY Francis hean1_0004_hean1_0000 PWX_LXX Likable Wilma_Wilma, Wilma, in thy blouse
Nazi! Nazi!
Nazi culture burning bright
With its nordic-Grecian light,
What sub-human dare defy
Its full totemic majesty?
Greek to speceies who are not
Aryan to the fina l clot,
Its ethnic-ethic-technic dwells
In nordic livestock’s sacred cells.
Stainless Aryan youth-bands now
Teach the tourist Herr and Frau,
That all folk-stems may in turn
Kraft duch Schadenfreude learn.
Arts of blood by bloodbaths purged,
In pan-Germanic sunburst merged,
Will their rays as they aspire
Come to set the Thames on fire?
Nazi! Nazi! burning brihgt
In Europe’s deep degenerate night,
Who but Nazi’s can descry
Thy primitive sublimity?
1936
KATZIN Olga Miller 1896_198 – Parody William BLAKE – The Tyger
Reductio ad Absurdam
(The vision unfolded by Professor Schäfer of the production of life by chemical means has been declared by other scientists to be the same discovery made long since by Darwin and Huxley. The absurdity of any such pretensions in the past is, of course, easily proved by the following reference to the case of Thomas.)
Thomas, Thomas, going large
Down the Mall’s majestic marge,
What mad scientist is he
Would claim to have concocted thee?
In what oxyhydrotherm
Dwelt thy protoplasmic germ?
In what subtle chemic spasm?
What the hand dare seize the plasm?
To what end, ‘neath what pretence
Arose thy utter lack of sense?
And, bringing such a thing to pass,
What blind fool, what silly ass?
What the formule? What the fault?
In what test-tube was thy salt?
What the bunsen? What the flame
Fused the fluid of thy frame?
When the spars thrown down in spate
Formed thy weak precipitate,
Did he look on it with glee –
He who, to take a case, made me?
Thomas, Thomis going large
Down the Mall’s majestic marge,
What mad scientist is he
Dare claim to have concocted thee?
Wilfrid BLAIR 1889_1968 Sa Muse s’amuse 1914
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tyger's Eye - after William Blake
Tyger's Eye
Tyger Tyger, once again
we'll praise your uncontested reign
where golden eye implies rebirth,
of jungle lord's word none constrain.
From distant deeps of tropic skies.
to forests sparse where eagle flies,
your power ripples round world's girth -
how could it e'er be otherwise?
Strength in each and every part
needs no paltry poet's art
to illustrate your peerless worth
which rhymes through time in class apart.
Neither hammer, chain, may blind
furnace features, anvil mind,
you represent upon this Earth
both force and freedom none may bind.
[c] Jonathan Robin - parody William Blake written 27 June 2008 robi3_1775_blak1_0003 PXX_CNX
___________
The Tyger
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry
In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes!
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare sieze the fire!
And what shoulder, and what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand! and what dread feet!
What the hammer! what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain
What the anvil, what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!
When the stars threw down their spear
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see
Did he who made the Lamb make thee!
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry!
William BLAKE 1757_1827
________
Tyger’s Rumour
Rumour rushing rampant right
round faithless forests of wraith night,
what immoral hand or eye
could frame fly tearless symmetry?
In what deep and dark disguise
spread irking libel, lurking lies?
on what wasp wings dare they aspire –
e’er slander sting tongues air fame liar?
What woeful infamous black art
wrung toxic sinews, tocsin heart
rung when sin heart broke cheating beat,
what sleight of hand to greet deceit!
What wrong's hammer, what strong chain?
in what furnace forged? What brain
fed wily worms sly envy's [g]rasp,
bred spiteful deadly [t]errors’ [g]asp?
11 December 1991 revised 18 September 2009 robi3_0504_blak1_0003 PXX_JXX for previous version see below
Parody William BLAKE 1757_1827 The Tyger
Tyger’s Rumour
Rumour rushing rampant right
round faithless forests of wraith night,
what immortal hand or eye
could frame fly tearless symmetry?
In what deep and dark disguise
spread irking libel, lurking lies?
On what wasp wings dare they aspire –
e’er slander sting tongues air fame liar?
What woeful infamous black art
wrung toxic sinews, tocsin heart
rung when sin heart broke cheating beat,
what sleight of hand to greet deceit!
What wrong's hammer, what strong chain?
In what furnace forged? What brain
fed wily worms sly envy's [g]rasp,
bred them deadly, errors’ [g]asp?
11 December 1991 revised 18 September 2009 robi3_0504_blak1_0003 PXX_JXX
_________________
Tiger Siberian and Riga Balterian
Riga, Riga, brave despite
Russian army’s aimless might,
what eternal summer sky
could liberate thy people’s sigh?
Though the hammer, sickle, chain
sickly are, they still remain
a present threat, their might and main
must from within be toppled! – Plain?
Fifty years the Russian reign
ignomious has spread red stain,
fifty years too much! – again
freedom comes, no dumb refrain.
Riga, Riga, free from fright
soon, before the New Year’s Night,
independence will attain –
light and laughter come again...
© Jonathan Robin – Parody written 1 October 1991 – Parody William BLAKE – The Tyger
The Tiger
Tigre! Tigre! L’étincelle
du fond des forêts de la nuit,
quel oeil, quelle main immortelle
firent ta terrible symétrie?
Dans quelles lointaines cimes, abîmes,
prit feu la puissance en tes yeux?
quelles ailes osèrent le sublime?
quel Promothée osa ce feu?
Quelle force et savoir-faire
pliaient les muscles de ton coeur
quand ce coeur fit son tonnerre,
quelle main forte et quelle ardeur?
Quelle chaîne et quel marteau,
de quel four sort ta cervelle?
quelle enclume? Quelle poignée
défia ces terreurs mortelles?
Quand les étoiles envoient leurs dards,
versant leurs larmes au Paradis,
a-t-il souri voyant son art?
qui fit l’agneau fit toi aussi?
Tigre, Tigre! L’étincelle
du fond des forêts de la nuit,
quel oeil, quelle main immortelle,
firent ta terrible symétrie?
© Jonathan Robin – Parody written 26 January 1993 – Parody William BLAKE – The Tyger
Likable Wilma
Wilma, Wilma, in thy blouse,
Red-haired prehistoric spouse,
What immortal animator
Was thy slender waist's creator?
When the Rubble clan moved in,
Was Betty jealous of thy skin,
Thy noble nose, thy dimpled knee?
Did he who penciled Fred draw thee?
Wilma, Wilma, burning bright, ye
Cartoon goddess Aphrodite,
Was it Hanna or Barbera
Made thee hot as some caldera?
Francis HEANEY Anagram Parody William BLAKE – The Tiger
HEANEY Francis hean1_0004_hean1_0000 PWX_LXX Likable Wilma_Wilma, Wilma, in thy blouse
Nazi! Nazi!
Nazi culture burning bright
With its nordic-Grecian light,
What sub-human dare defy
Its full totemic majesty?
Greek to speceies who are not
Aryan to the fina l clot,
Its ethnic-ethic-technic dwells
In nordic livestock’s sacred cells.
Stainless Aryan youth-bands now
Teach the tourist Herr and Frau,
That all folk-stems may in turn
Kraft duch Schadenfreude learn.
Arts of blood by bloodbaths purged,
In pan-Germanic sunburst merged,
Will their rays as they aspire
Come to set the Thames on fire?
Nazi! Nazi! burning brihgt
In Europe’s deep degenerate night,
Who but Nazi’s can descry
Thy primitive sublimity?
1936
KATZIN Olga Miller 1896_198 – Parody William BLAKE – The Tyger
Reductio ad Absurdam
(The vision unfolded by Professor Schäfer of the production of life by chemical means has been declared by other scientists to be the same discovery made long since by Darwin and Huxley. The absurdity of any such pretensions in the past is, of course, easily proved by the following reference to the case of Thomas.)
Thomas, Thomas, going large
Down the Mall’s majestic marge,
What mad scientist is he
Would claim to have concocted thee?
In what oxyhydrotherm
Dwelt thy protoplasmic germ?
In what subtle chemic spasm?
What the hand dare seize the plasm?
To what end, ‘neath what pretence
Arose thy utter lack of sense?
And, bringing such a thing to pass,
What blind fool, what silly ass?
What the formule? What the fault?
In what test-tube was thy salt?
What the bunsen? What the flame
Fused the fluid of thy frame?
When the spars thrown down in spate
Formed thy weak precipitate,
Did he look on it with glee –
He who, to take a case, made me?
Thomas, Thomis going large
Down the Mall’s majestic marge,
What mad scientist is he
Dare claim to have concocted thee?
Wilfrid BLAIR 1889_1968 Sa Muse s’amuse 1914
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Impromptu - What is Poetry?
Evacuate all thought and fix the mind
upon a golden guideline, balanced, yet
uncertain still, yet still, yet still upset.
Enshrine a moment’s dream, Time left behind.
Love, beauty, truth, to harmony, soul, bind
within your heart, all echo else forget.
Sing, laugh and cry alone, on chance course set.
In smile, word, sigh and look your art has signed
exquisite canvas, fearful, charming, - find
with a teardropp priceless pearl reset.
The poet’s passion here on Earth is met,
his worth, his life, ambitions, are defined.
poem by Alfred de Musset, translated by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Primacy Of Mind
Above the glow of molten steel,
The roar of furnace, forge, and shed,
Protectress of the City's weal,
Now, Learning rears her loftier head;
That Progress may at length descry
It lacks the clue to guide aright,
And, conscious of its blindness, cry
Unto the Muse, ``More light! More light!''
That Wealth may fitly yield the throne
To Letters, Science, artist-skill,
And Matter, willing subject, own
Mind must be lord and master still.
poem by Alfred Austin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem about Poetry - Adam's first poem after the fall
i did not know sin meant chains
so full of them all over my physique
and i did not know the deceptive apple
could lead to this woeful state
only god now is boundless freedom
the paradise boundless freedom
rhe sky boundless freedom
the sea boundless freedom
and to enjoy all these now in chain,
boundless the hurt is the heart
injurious chain on every inch of my physique
that jolts me for their wants
every minute of the day
and to know that i will pass this chain
down to every of my offsprings
binding them down to earth
till they become just dust and bones
chained, chained, chained,
this hateful long chain the devil spawned
that laid end to end
could snake its way round the world
this hateful chain that circles the body
imprisons it, hurtful as red hot iron
how stealthily it works day by day
tightening its grip
till i am wrinkled, bent, and bedridden
till only the last breath would release me
of its curse
this chain that torture me for wordly needs
oh god, how hateful you are
to bind me in these red hot chains! ! !
note:
chain refers to the blood vessels round our body
they indeed resemble a chain
as never did adam experience hunger
until this chain exacted its wants
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am No Poet
A poet... oh i am? , says I,
Perhaps it's what you think
Just mixed up words of life I cry
Like someone on the brink
Mere words assembled in a row
From thoughts a few of many
labelled then a poet so
Though none worth but a penny
I speak as though my mind should find
My head in quite a spin
With rhymes and verse a peace I find
That life could ne'er begin
That label sticks and holds me back
A form I have to follow
A fear of literary attack
Can leave my words quite hollow
So cast me not as just a poet
Sense that i am fighting
I'm more than that and you should know it
That's why i keep writing..
poem by Dave James
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chain Of Fools (feat. Pointer Sisters)
Clint Black & The Pointer Sisters
Chain chain chains (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chains (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools
For four long years
I thought you were my man
But I found out
I'm just a link in your chain.
You got me where you want me
I ain't nothin but your fool
You treated me mean
Oh, you treated me cruel.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain of fools
Every chain
Has got a weak link
I might be weak child
Oh, but I'll give you strength.
OOh. OOh.
You told me to leave you alone
My mother said, come on home
My doctor said, take it easy
But your lovin' is much too strong
I'm added to your.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools.
--- Instrumental ---
One of these mornings
That chain is gonna break
But up until then
I'm goin'a take all I can take, oh yeah.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools, oh yeah...
--- Instrumental with oops till fade ---
song performed by by Clint Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Escape From The Snares Of Love
YOUNG LOVE has chains of metal rare,
Heavy as gold-yet light as air:
It chanced he caught a heart one day
Which struggled hard, as loth to stay.
Prudence, poor thing, was lingering near-
She whispered in the captive's ear,
'Cease, little flutterer; bear thy chain,
And soon thou shalt be free again!'
No; I assert my right to fly-
The chain shall break, and Love shall die
What! I remain a willing slave?
No-freedom, freedom, or the grave!
Meanwhile Love slumbered by his prize
His languid limbs and closing eyes
Prudence beheld-she spoke again,
'Oh! yet a moment bear thy chain!'
Unheeded prayer! the struggling heart
Strove still the slender links to part,
While timid Prudence gazed and sighed,
Weary of strife, and loth to chide.
One moment more the links had broke,
But slumbering Love, alarmed, awoke;
With iron rivets bound the chain,
And turned secure to sleep again.
Let hearts which now in bondage weep,
Repose, till wearied Love shall sleep:
Oh! struggle not, lest he should wake ;-
Slip off the chain-it will not break.
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio
In the Shreve High football stadium,
I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville,
And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood,
And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel,
Dreaming of heroes.
All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home.
Their women cluck like starved pullets,
Dying for love.
Therefore,
Their sons grow suicidally beautiful
At the beginning of October,
And gallop terribly against each other's bodies.
poem by James Arlington Wright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Parental advisory (explicit content)
They are here
spray paint and marker pens
They are here to show
our defacement and vandalism
They are here to show us and kick
our ass our laws our bourgeois respectability
They are here to show us and kick against this idea
of unsustainable stability
They are here to show us and kick against this idea because they've got no fear
about death about governments about dominant thought
They are here to show us and kick against this idea because they've got no fear, they use the power
of freedom, expression, creativity, mercy and generosity
They are here to show us and kick against this idea because they've got no fear, they use the power to write down
their fragility their energy their sufferance their misplacement
They are here to show us and kick against this idea because they've got no fear to be opponent
when we are absent, when we decide for them, when we change the rules without their engagement
They are here to show us and kick against this idea
of the ruling class and the perfect family and the perfect life
They are here to show us and refuse
parents who scream and abuse, the bully mates, the violence, the prejudice
They are here to show
respect to the world, to the earth, to human beings
They are here
asking for protection, begging us to stop these fights
don't you see them?
poem by Ilaria Boffa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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