Neptune's Tomb
Beneath restless wind and wave
deep in its watery crypt
silent gray hulk
eternally sleeps.
What tragedy on some high sea
doomed this traveler
to rest evermore.
In Neptune's Tomb.
Ceaselessly.
aquatic guardians patrol
in out and around
this muted monument.
What secrets
and stilled testaments
do they protect
do they conceal?
By the subdued light
from the world above
illuminated faintly.
See the shadowy silhouette.
By what grants
give alien seekers privilege
to invade freely
the still sanctity.
Would it not be
if from naught else
but respect and honor
to souls slumbering there.
To only pause and query.
What tragic misfortune rendered
such disastrous consequence?
Offer homage and pass on by.
poem by Kurt Hearth
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Related quotes
The Empty Tomb
In Arlington, where valor sleeps,
there is a marble Tomb
where heroes rest whose names are known
to God and God alone.
From Korea and the fields of France
Brought here to hallowed sleep
The unknowns of our nation's wars
Are honored with a wreath.
One body from the tomb is gone-
He served in Vietnam.
The mystery of identity
Found in a shard of bone
Rededicate his empty crypt
To the missing of that war-
To honor and keep faith with them
who never have come home.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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No sir
It is nice to be addressed as sir
It adds to glory with different color
Person feels proud with achievement
Nice to rejoice with happy moments
Generally we give respected to aged persons
It has some feeling with reasons
We have parents at home and reminds of their presence
We respect any one when see them at once
It has remained tradition to accord honor
Either with excellence in field
Or some high position held
It is traditional to be known as specialist in the field
Let people honor your age
It is token gesture on page
What else they can offer?
As they have seen you rise and suffer
Not age only grants you respect
Even though that has been given to you in fact
People see in your a great strength
Take as much advantage as possible before death
So let them have opportunity to address
See the smile and honor on your face
To morrow they may take pride in having you as sir
As the time, days and even may pass the years
It is humbleness on the part of person to fee odd
When addressed often as sir or to that high of god
It takes away closeness from the known people
So it is preferred to remain free from any trouble
It is good when someone is placed at the top
There should not be any attempt to stop
Let people feel proud of a person who is one among them
To be known as diamond and priceless gem
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Cape Cod
The low sandy beach and the thin scrub pine,
The wide reach of bay and the long sky line,—
O, I am sick for home!
The salt, salt smell of the thick sea air,
And the smooth round stones that the ebbtides wear,—
When will the good ship come?
The wretched stumps all charred and burned,
And the deep soft rut where the cartwheel turned,—
Why is the world so old?
The lapping wave, and the broad gray sky
Where the cawing crows and the slow gulls fly,
Where are the dead untold?
The thin, slant willows by the flooded bog,
The huge stranded hulk and the floating log,
Sorrow with life began!
And among the dark pines, and along the flat shore,
O the wind, and the wind, for evermore!
What will become of man?
poem by George Santayana
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Universal Traveler
Universal Traveler - Air
(Talkie Walkie; Trans. by Tish)
I know so many
Places in the world
I follow the sun
In my silver plane
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
If you have a look
Outside on the sea
Everything is white
It's so wonderful
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
So far
So far
So far away
I met so many
People in my life
I've got many friends
Who can care for me
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Trust fills everywhere ?
And tomorrow
Is a brand new day
Let's go somewhere else
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
So far
So far
So far away
So far
So far
So far away
So far
So far
So far away
So far
So far
So far away
song performed by by Air
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unspoken love will kill you in your soul.
There are things that we do
for the people that we love;
Strange things. From the ground
up to the sky above.
There are their secrets which we keep,
and bring with us to the grave.
There are their words, thoughts and actions,
that makes us free men and women all act like slaves.
There are their secrets which we keep,
which in our souls will burn away.
And yet we still stay steadfast
and never let them see the light of day.
They are the people we protect,
who know naught of this protection.
For we all fear if they knew
what went beyond mere affection.
They are the people that you love,
and yet must daily now ignore.
They are the reason that you are fearful,
to step out and explore.
You have seen them cry,
and weep before they sleep.
You have tried to walk away,
but you know you're in far too deep.
Men Must Respect
Men must respect other men
Women must respect other women
Men and women must respect our children
And protect them so all can go to heaven.
I cannot fully fathom the unusualness of men
Mother Nature will remain eternally natural
Mothers will give birth to men and women
And the sky will forever be conventional.
Men must respect girls and boys
They are human too, not little toys
Women must respect boys and girls
Our tootses don’t belong to a world of swirls and twirls.
If we respect each other, our world will be natural
Loving, wonderful and exceptional
Love and respect are like fraternal twins
In such godly oasis, everyone wins.
Men must respect and care for each other
Women must follow a similar procedure
Life is beautiful, thanks to Mother Nature
Who always follows the Scriptures.
Our children need our help and divine lectures
Let’s love them and protect their future
Let’s chase the devils out of the manger
Let’s be brothers and sisters and love each other.
Men must respect other men
Men and women must respect our children.
poem by Hebert Logerie
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On the death of a friend
There was no bell to peal thy funeral dirge,
No nodding plumes to wave above thy bier,
No shroud to wrap thee but the foaming surge,
No kindly voices thy dark way to cheer,
No eye to give the tribute of a tear.
Alone, "unknell'd, uncoffin'd," thou hast died,
Without one gentle mourner lingering near;
Down the deep waters thou unseen didst glide,
With Ocean's countless dead to slumber side by side.
Thou sleep'st not with thy fathers. O'er thy bed,
The flowers that deck their tombs may never wave;
To plead remembrance for thee o'er thy head
No sculptur'd marble shall arise. Thy grave
Is the dark boundless deep, whose waters lave
The shores of empires. When thou sought'st thy rest
Within their silent depths, they only gave
A circling ripple, then with foaming crest
The booming waves roll'd over their unconscious guest.
'Tis said that far beneath the wild waves rushing,
Where sea-flowers bloom and fabled Peris dwell,
That there the restless waters cease their gushing,
And leave their dead within some sparkling cell,
Where gems are gleaming, and the lone sea shell
Is breathing its sweet music. And 'tis said
That Time, who weaveth over Earth a spell
Of blight and ruin, o'er the Ocean's dead
He passeth lightly on, with trackless, silent tread.
Then, though no marble e'er shall rise for thee,
No monument to mark thy last long home,
Thine ocean grave unhonored shall not be, --
The coral insect there shall rear a tomb
That age shall ne'er destroy; and there shall bloom
The fadeless ocean flowers. And though the glare
Of the bright sunbeams ne'er shall light its gloom,
Yet glancing eyes and forms unearthly fair
Shall throng around thy couch, and hymn a requiem there.
Now fare thee well! I will not weep that thou
Didst pass so soon away; for though thou wert
Still in thy boyhood's prime, and thy fair brow
Undimmed by age; yet sad was thy young heart,
For thou hadst seen the light of life depart,
And Love had thrown his wild and burning spell
Around thee, and with deep, insidious art
Had maddened thee. Then sounded loud the knell
Of all thy bright young dreams. My earliest friend, farewell!
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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An Allegory
I.
A portal as of shadowy adamant
Stands yawning on the highway of the life
Which we all tread, a cavern huge and gaunt;
Around it rages an unceasing strife
Of shadows, like the restless clouds that haunt
The gap of some cleft mountain, lifted high
Into the whirlwinds of the upper sky.
II.
And many pass it by with careless tread,
Not knowing that a shadowy...
Tracks every traveller even to where the dead
Wait peacefully for their companion new;
But others, by more curious humour led,
Pause to examine;—these are very few,
And they learn little there, except to know
That shadows follow them where’er they go.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Immemorial Day
Many take this day to honor the dead
Who died for what they thought was right
They knew not with lies they were misled
To satisfy money-hungry bankers’ appetite
Bankers that fund both sides in a war
Profiting from weapons and destruction
Pass the cost to “the common” evermore
Seems to be no end to greed n’ corruption
Go ahead n’ lay down a flower wreath
In memory of millions who have fallen
Their souls cry for justice just beneath
It’s their eternal souls that are calling
“An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind”
Pray for lasting peace to beleaguered humankind
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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The Obligation Owed (Veterans' Day 2010)
I beg your thanks, for all that you have done-
For the service you have rendered and all the freedom you have won;
Your selfless dedication to such lofty ideals,
Honors all who reap its benefit, as time itself reveals;
Causal to your sacrifice, nations thrive under guard of liberty;
You are the very proof that a super hero really may be;
You pledge allegiance to the flag, yet its the Constitution you protect and defend-
Until your very last breath, upon your integrity we may depend;
The only proper recompense we may ever offer
Is to never take for granted the obligation owed, your proffer;
You serve, so that others may live under the precepts you protect;
We live each day, empowered by the strength you project:
'Thank you' seems so insufficient-though, it is all I may give-
It is you that would give your life to ensure we may freely live!
-Maurice Harris,10 November 2010
poem by Maurice Harris
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Gaia
(olivia newton-john)
I am your mother--born of the sun
I gave you shelter--what have you done?
Your hearts in turmoil--my worlds in pain
I need to turn you back home again
I am a woman--i am the rain
And like your father--i feel the betrayed
What you are doing--can be undone
You know the answers--tell everyone
Respect me
Respect me
I need you to protect me
For it is you not me
Whose fates in jeopardy
Respect me
Respect me
I need you to protect me
For it is you not me
Thats the part you fail to see
I am the forest--now Im a tree
The air is dirty--i cannot breathe
My streams run empty--my tears run dry
My children call me--dont let us die
Respect me
Respect me
I need you to protect me
For it is you not me
Whose fates in jeopardy
Respect me
Respect me
I need you to protect me
For it is you not me
Thats the part you fail to see
I love my children and Ive been your home
But Ill survive this--if Im alone
Im survivor--but you will be gone
Lets start a new world--from this day on
Respect me
Respect me
I need you to protect me
For it is you not me
Whose fates in jeopardy
Respect me
Respect me
I need you to protect me
For it is you not me
Thats the part you fail to see
For it is you not me
Thats the part you fail to see
Oh respect me
Oh respect me
I need you to protect me
For it is you not me
Thats the part you fail to see
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Letter To Abigail And Gabriella
I would love to say I know, but may only guess
What your voices sound like, or what likeness
Your visages truly take-I wonder: 'still like me! ? '
Tragically, I still know not when be, for myself, I might see-
Or when mine ears may partake in your melodious voices!
I lament that I was never given choices,
And that I am sure to be portrayed, as much
Less honorable than I am-as such,
I am also sure to be unfairly villified
As a 'dead beat', or someone equally unqualified
To seek empathy from a world already biased against me!
I may as well stand mute, but then who would the antagonist be?
This is a fate I would never wish upon anyone;
My heart aches more all the time, and will before this day is done.
There exists a void in my soul naught may measure,
As I mourn the Angels, with whom I have never spoken, but treasure
More than anything else in this whole world-
Tonight, this Father weeps for the little girls
Who were never given forums to voice their wants!
No one should ever be treated so callously-it haunts
Me each and every day of my life-
That I may not now do aught, to affect your strife!
You suffering is ignored, because it does not comport
With the wants of your guardians, and those with whom they consort;
On more than one occasion, my acquiescence has been sought-
Though my cooperation may not be bought,
Not when I am asked to sign away
My parental rights-no, not this or any other day!
Time is the only ally that truth really needs-
As time marches on, truth obviates and deceit concedes!
Nowhere will this be more crystal clear,
Than when our estrangement ceases and you are again near-
So that I might answer each and every query,
To allay your fears, where now, you are surely leery!
To Abigail: I tried my beloved-God knows I really tried,
To offer you the best life; I even lied
To myself, for as long as I possibly could-
You were my only love, it would have done no good
To pretend I was enamored by your Mother;
It was doomed from the start and cost me the friendship of another
Extraordinary lady, that my heart laments to this day!
That I may supplant that ardor foregone, I do pray!
To Gabriella: Our estrangement is perhaps easier to explicate:
I am sure by now you are privy to the paranoia she did create!
One may not battle such ignorance, with ration or reason-
Her delusional deceit became soon, her all-consuming treason!
Now, perpetually protected and out of reach,
She is oblivious to anything I might otherwise beseech!
All this said makes it no easier to understand-
So many layers of 'justice' in the palm of her hand,
Seemingly ready and willing to do as she would command-
As thought the entire tragedy were expertly planned!
When the veridical voice of time
Exposes all the deceit, and we are prime-
Then, and only then, may an attempt be made to explicate
The complex series of events that rendered our fate!
My most sincere hope is that then,
When all is laid before you, you will never again
Query the love or devotion that I posses,
Nor begrudge me, due circumstances I confess!
This is all I do now, or ever, ask of you:
Believe, though circumstance conspired to belie it-I always did love you!
You are both my first thoughts, upon a new day's dawn,
And surely to, my last, when the day's gone!
poem by Maurice Harris
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thoughts about what-I Believe
Parody on a Frankie Laine song 'I believe' top of the charts in 1953
I believe the morning sun will rise and run across the sky.
I believe in azure blue I'll look and see bold birds fly high.
I believe that trees will grow and bend and bow and dance.
I believe that flowers will show and prance with their fragrance.
I believe that all life wakes to own and claim their day.
I believe their spirits rise to guide them on their way.
I believe that deep inside of everyone, we all are there.
I believe in being still and resting there in silent prayer.
I believe that this is how we all will find our way,
To face our day,
In every way,
And live as one,
Beneath the sun
That rises every day and makes its way across the sky.
To shine its light
on you and I.
Eternally
Eternally
poem by Mary Mc Creath
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Be Kind to Pedestrian
Please be kind to the first traveler
Before the street made, before the wheel created
Please be patient to the foot walker
It won’t hurt to give a few seconds for them to pass by
Please respect to the free fuel
Don’t be proud that you waste more money
Please protect the traffic user
The person in the road could be your savior
Please take a look to the face of commoner
The heart of the world is speaking around you
Please be attention to the line of human
Every great works in history always begins by one small step
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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My Own Sea
As the wind of peace blew my stormy clouds away,
I could see a hint of sunshine peering over the trees,
It swept through the bluest sea and brought happiness to me.
My own sea brushes away your doubts when you touch it,
My own sea washes along your heart and soul,
It creates high tides to protect you and it calms down to sooth you.
My sea is a sea of loyalty and harmony,
My sea is a sea of kindness and honesty,
My sea is a sea of determination and long haunted paths,
A sea of rocky waves and crashing tides,
On shore I hide my secrets and wishes,
But when the red light of summer sun sets behind my turquoised
kingdom,
I could float beneath the blue silent world and explore my own
mystical realm,
A maiden of the waves.
poem by Mimi Fakhira
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Lost legion for Friend Thad
The earth beneath the desert sun is baked to shades of brown and dun.
A sea of sand which ceaselessly moves with wind uneasily.
The land marks here are far and few but known by those belonging to the nomad bands who freely roam this sea of sand and call it home.
A people fierce and proud and free who guard their secrets ruthlessly.
Intruders are not welcome here; invaders simply disappear.
Their fate is very seldom known, the desert can protect its own
Whole Roman legions were erased their resting place cannot be traced.
The desert knows but will not speak some bones are found by those who seek
to solve the ancient mysteries. Perhaps rewrite the histories.
To validate their theories of how an army disappears.
without a clues as to their fate. A subject open to debate.
The desert sands move constantly, sometimes revealing teasingly
bleached bones and weapons on the sand which scholars strive to understand.
Does it matter anyway? Why do we seek to know today
what happened to the lost legion. Although the legend lingers on.
The desert will not satisfy our burning curiosity
The desert knows but will not share the scholars find this hard to bear.
The desert lands conceal with ease volumes of untold histories.
Which earnest scholars yearn to read, perhaps one day they will succeed.
But until then the burning sun will bake the earth to brown and dun
Maintaining its long secrecy in brooding silent dignity.
30-Dec-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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My Room
I feel the cancer of this room
Pull me into seven circles
And entwine some ferial mood
Until my souls mercurial
This heaven is, its own made prison
Rewarding restless coloured passion
Seeping thoughts with pleasure lesions
That extinguishes my pallid talents
My mansions poor of what I'm not
A privy respect for solitude
Where wisdom learned cannot be bought
Experience from forbidden fruit
If I should drift inside my storm
That harkens to a tempest rage
Then you are free to shut the door
And leave me to my red delight
For no companions do I share
My existence or its joys
Spending time alone on dares
With my loves in silent voids
Through the window is the world
Of a place I do not see
I wish I understood the part
That made me a human being
Now I rest inside my room
And rest until my tomb
poem by Kevin Patrick
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The Coronation Of Inez De Castro
There was music on the midnight;
From a royal fane it roll'd,
And a mighty bell, each pause between,
Sternly and slowly toll'd.
Strange was their mingling in the sky,
It hush'd the listener's breath;
For the music spoke of triumph high,
The lonely bell, of death.
There was hurrying through the midnight:-
A sound of many feet;
But they fell with a muffled fearfulness,
Along the shadowy street;
And softer, fainter, grew their tread,
As it near'd the Minster-gate,
Whence broad and solemn light was shed
From a scene of royal state.
Full glow'd the strong red radiance
In the centre of the nave,
Where the folds of a purple canopy
Sweep down in many a wave;
Loading the marble pavement old
With a weight of gorgeous gloom;
For something lay 'midst their fretted gold,
Like a shadow of the tomb.
And within that rich pavilion
High on a glittering throne,
A woman's form sat silently,
Midst the glare of light alone.
Her Jewell'd robes fell strangely still-
The drapery on her breast
Seem'd with no pulse beneath to thrill,
So stone-like was its rest.
But a peal of lordly music
Shook e'en the dust below,
When the burning gold of the diadem
Was set on her pallid brow!
Then died away that haughty sound,
And from th' encircling band,
Stept Prince and Chief, 'midst the hush profound,
With homage to her hand.
Why pass'd a faint cold shuddering
Over each martial frame,
As one by one, to touch that hand,
Noble and leader came?
Was not the settled aspect fair?
Did not a queenly grace,
Under the parted ebon hair.
Sit on the pale still face?
Death, Death! canst
thou
be lovely
Unto the eye of Life?
Is not each pulse of the quick high breast
With thy cold mien at strife?
-It was a strange and fearful sight,
The crown upon that head,
The glorious robes and the blaze of light,
All gather'd round the Dead!
And beside her stood in silence
One with a brow as pale,
And white lips rigidly compress'd,
Lest the strong heart should fail;
King Pedro with a jealous eye
Watching the homage done
By the land's flower and chivalry
To her, his martyr'd one.
But on the face he look'd not
Which once his star had been:
To every form his glance was turn'd,
Save of the breathless queen;
Though something, won from the grare's embrace,
Of her beauty still was there,
Its hues were all of that shadowy place,
'Twas not for
him
to bear.
Alas! the crown, the sceptre,
The treasures of the earth,
And the priceless love that pour'd those gifts,
Alike of wasted worth!
The rites are closed-bear back the Dead
Unto the chamber deep,
Lay down again the royal head,
Dust with the dust to sleep.
There is music on the midnight-
A requiem sad and slow.
As the mourners through the sounding aisle
In dark procession go,
And the ring of state, and the starry crown,
And all the rich array,
Are borne to the house of silence down,
With her, that queen of clay.
And tearlessly and firmly,
King Pedro led the train-
But his face was wrapt in his folding robe,
When they lower'd the dust again.
-'Tis hush'd at last, the tomb above,
Hymns die, and steps depart:
Who call'd thee strong as Death, O Love?
Mightier
thou wert and art!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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My Baby Sleeps
The wind is loud in the west to-night,
But Baby sleeps;
The wild wind blows with all its might,
But Baby sleeps;
My Baby sleeps, and he does not hear
The noise of the storm in the pine trees near.
The snow is drifting high to-night,
But Baby sleeps;
The bitter world is cold and white,
But Baby sleeps;
My Baby sleeps, so fast, so fast,
That he does not heed the wintry blast.
The cold snows drift, and the wild winds rave,
But Baby sleeps;
And a white cross stands by his little grave,
While Baby sleeps;
And the storm is loud in the rocking pine,
But its moan is not so deep as mine.
poem by George A. Mackenzie
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To the Memory of Queen Victoria
These ever wakeful eyes are closed. They saw
Such grief, that they could see no more. The heart--
That quick'ning pulse of nations--could not bear
Another throb of pain, and could not hear
Another cry of tortur'd motherhood.
Those uncomplaining lips, they sob no more
The soundless sobs of dark and burning tears,
That none have seen; they smile no more, to breathe
A mother's comfort into aching hearts.
The patriarchal Queen, the monument
Of touching widowhood, of endless love,
And childlike purity--she sleeps. This night
Is watchful not. The restless hand, that slave
To duty, to a mastermind, to wisdom
That fathom'd history and saw beyond
The times, lies still in marble whiteness. Love
So great, so faithful, unforgetting and
Unselfish--must it sleep? Or will that veil,
That widow's veil unfold, and spread into
The dovelike wings, that long were wont to hover
In anxious care about her world-wide nest,
And now will soar and sing, as harpchords sing,
Whilst in their upward flight they breast the wind
Of Destiny. No rest for her, no tomb,
Nor ashes! Light eternal! Hymns of joy!
No silence now for her, who, ever silent,
Above misfortunes' storms and thund'ring billows,
Would stand with clear and fearless brow, so calm,
That men drew strength from out those dauntless eyes,
And quiet from that hotly beating heart,
Kept still by stern command and unbent will
Beneath those tight shut lips. Not ashes, where
A beacon e'er will burn, a fire, like
The Altar's Soma, for the strong, the weak,
The true, the brave, and for the quailing. No,
Not ashes, but a light, that o'er the times
Will shed a gentle ray, and show the haven,
When all the world, stormshaken, rudderless, will pray:
If but her century would shine again!
Oh, Lord! Why hast thou ta'en thy peaceful Queen?
poem by Carmen Sylva
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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