Don't Disgrace Me My Mistress
Don't disgrace me my Mistress with this gold coin
I worked in your gardens night and day
Fashioned each flower to new life
Trimmed the uneven hedge and grass in fine shape
And when the bamboos shot and flourished
The Lilies bloom
I watched them grow like a proud father
I guarded your palaces
Your lockers overflowing with wealth
Sleepless nights flee
And I forgot to dream
I harnessed the horse into its stable
Fed it with pasture
Rich and green
Though my stomach burns, my hunger not fed yet another day
Don't disgrace me my Mistress with this gold coin
It shines bright like your pride upon my poverty
(My heart shrinks in rage and anguish)
Don't rob me of my dignity, my pride
Because its my worthless possession...
poem by Lama Abbas
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Related quotes
Throughout This Short Life
Throughout this short life
We always thought about ourselves.
Never about the ones who went under the knife,
Nor about the ones who have no wealth.
Through the times tide,
We always ran for our materialistic needs,
Trying to shape out our worthless pride,
Never worked hard for a single good deed.
Never saw for the ones that cried,
Wants that never end.
Even if someone died,
It’s our pride that we want to defend.
poem by ManmeetSingh Boyal
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The Value of Gold
There may be standard weight for precious metal,
But deeper meaning it must ever hold;
Thank God, there are some things no law can settle,
And one of these—the real worth of gold.
The stamp of king or crown has common power
To hold the traffic-value in control;
Our coarser senses note this worth—the lower;
The higher comes from senses of the soul.
This truth we find not in mere warehouse learning—
The value varies with the hands that hold;
The worth depends upon the mode of earning;
And this man's copper equals that man's gold.
With empty heart, and forehead lined with scheming,
Men's sin and sorrow have been that man's gain;
But this man's heart, with rich emotions teeming,
Makes fine the gold for which he coins his brain.
But richer still than gold from upright labor—
The only gold that should have standard price-
Is the poor earning of our humble neighbor,
Whose every coin is red with sacrifice.
Mere store of money is not wealth, but rather
The proof of poverty and need of bread.
Like men themselves is the bright gold they gather
It may be living, or it may be dead.
It may be filled with love and life and vigor,
To guide the wearer, and to cheer the way;
It may be corpse-like in its weight and rigor,
Bending the bearer to his native clay.
There Is no comfort but in outward showing
In all the servile homage paid to dross;
Better to heart and soul the silent knowing
Our little store has not been gained by loss.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Pride!
All I have left is my pride.
But a shield, yet a buoy.
Keeps me afloat against vice,
Against your spite that annoy.
My pride; a protective pride,
Affords me dignity's joy-
When you want to stomp my might,
When you want to stop my force.
It is my pride that clears my sight.
Thus leave me to my proud course.
Lest you feel my wrath ever fierce.
My pride, the only dignity I know.
Only wall between trodden tears;
The defender of weak, helpless souls,
Those looking upon the rich with fear.
Pride; the bold titanium shield of sorts.
Blocking the piercing stares and jeers.
Unseen strength that can't be stopped.
Can't be broken; is my pride here.
poem by Real Wordz
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Im In Disgrace
The first time that I saw you
You were the lady of my dreams.
The very next time I had to make you mine,
And I treated you like a queen.
The third time that I saw you
You treated me with such distaste,
Now I wish Id never seen your face.
Im in disgrace,
Im in disgrace.
Because I fell for your pretty face,
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
You captured me in your embrace.
Theres no use blaming me
And saying I was your ruination
Because it was you equally
That got us into this situation.
It wasnt lust, it wasnt rape,
It was just a mistake
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Because I fell for your pretty face.
Im in disgrace. shes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
You captured me in your embrace.
Was your love real or faked?
Or was it only infatuation?
Picture you in my place.
I wish Id acted with a little less haste.
Im in disgrace.
Im in disgrace.
Because I fell for your pretty face.
Oh what a waste. hes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Now my names dirt and Im disgraced.
Im in disgrace.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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May Janet
“STAND UP, stand up, thou May Janet,
And go to the wars with me.”
He’s drawn her by both hands
With her face against the sea.
“He that strews red shall gather white,
He that sows white reap red,
Before your face and my daughter’s
Meet in a marriage-bed.
“Gold coin shall grow in the yellow field,
Green corn in the green sea-water,
And red fruit grow of the rose’s red,
Ere your fruit grow in her.”
“But I shall have her by land,” he said,
“Or I shall have her by sea,
Or I shall have her by strong treason
And no grace go with me.”
Her father’s drawn her by both hands,
He’s rent her gown from her,
He’s ta’en the smock round her body,
Cast in the sea-water.
The captain’s drawn her by both sides
Out of the fair green sea;
“Stand up, stand up, thou May Janet,
And come to the war with me.”
The first town they came to
There was a blue bride-chamber;
He clothed her on with silk
And belted her with amber.
The second town they came to
The bridesmen feasted knee to knee;
He clothed her on with silver,
A stately thing to see.
The third town they came to
The bridesmaids all had gowns of gold;
He clothed her on with purple,
A rich thing to behold.
The last town they came to
He clothed her white and red,
With a green flag either side of her
And a gold flag overhead.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Sonnet: The Man of Pride
O man of pride, do come down from your heights!
’Tis lonely sitting in a chair like that;
The dizziness could cause you sleepless nights;
Please condescend, come down to us to chat.
Pride kills a man before he truly dies;
Pride poisons minds in stealthily a style;
Pride generates in men just ‘pseudo-highs’,
And makes a man unfit to walk life’s mile.
Remember, all are human beings first;
Well treat others in humane ways, you can;
The heart of pride would like a dam-old, burst
The man with pride cannot be content, man!
Pride steals the energy to guide others,
And only serves to torment all brothers.
9-14-2001
poem by John Celes
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In the spirit of Rumi - 45 - The Lily
In the gardens of the world
as the world and seasons turn,
in a thousand thousand gardens,
in a million fields and valleys,
the lilies grow.
the lilies of the field – proud
yet modest in the grass, proud
that Jesus spoke of them;
lilies of the valley – proud
yet modest as their scent
sings and calls, amongst all
the heady scents of nature,
the scent so close
to the wild cyclamen
in the hillside grass;
the regal lily, sharing with the rose
the Caliph’s and the Sultan’s gardens,
listening all their lives as lilies do
to the plashing fountain in the fragrant courtyard;
laughing quietly as the kohl-eyed beauties
round the Caliph in the evening garden
vie behind their silken veils
with perfumes mixed and strange..
each day, one lily in the bed
reaches its perfection, glows,
exults in its day of unique status,
as every lily has its day..
What honour then, can God bestow
upon his creatures, so magnificent,
so thunderous in their praise of Him
for those with ears to hear?
His most precious gift, which even men
rarely earn with all a lifetime serving Him –
a glimpse of His perfection..
And the regal lily, full of the humility
of the lily, Mary’s flower,
bows its slender neck
yields all its beauty, bowing low,
folds its curled petals, as Mary
submitting to the will of God;
and we, walking in the garden,
glance and say ‘Behold,
that lily which, but yesterday, was perfect,
is fading now already…’ and in our heart
passes, is discarded, the evening chill
of knowing ourselves to be that lily..
pride, humility, the gifted glimpse of God’s perfection,
barely acknowledged as they pass..
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Choice
PLAGUE take the dull and dusty town,
Its paved and sordid mazes,
Now Spring has trimmed her pretty gown
With buttercups and daisies!
With half my heart I long to lie
Among the flowered grasses,
And hear the loving leaves that sigh
As their sweet Mistress passes.
Through picture-shows I make my way
While flower-crowned maids go maying,
And all the cultured things I say
That cultured folk are saying.
For I renounce Spring's darling face,
With may-bloom fresh upon it:
My Mistress lives in Grosvenor-place
And wears a Bond-street bonnet!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Pride
A stone cast into the sky
Must surely fall down to the earth
No matter how greenish the grass is
It is a rich delicacy to herds
Monkey defies instruction to be cautious
It ends up climbing trees beyond branches
Pride and damnation are borne twins
Accolades based on pride leads to fall
Beauty anchors on pride vanishes
No proud can see God
The rewards of pride are
Shame, dishonour, rejection....
Pride descreates throne
A king with garment of pride
Will end up naked at market square
A prince riding on a horse with countenance
Will be trodden upon on the street
If people are hailing you;
If the world urges you on;
Beware, make youself humble
For no one queue behind the proud
A word is enough.......
poem by Babatunde Aremu
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My Name Is Qalme-Tari
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Were I go
People will follow.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Were I go
Death follows.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
I bring death
Upon people of injustice.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Death for people of injustice.
Tyrants beware!
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Dictators beware
I come for thee.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Kidnapers beware
I come for thee.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Child abusers beware
I come for thee.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
For those of injustice
I am Death.
My name is Estela
Mistress of Hope
For those of purity
I am Hope
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
The in just
Shall flee before me.
My name is Estela
Mistress of Hope
The pure
Shall follow me.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
My name is Estela
Mistress of Hope
Were I go
People will flee.
Were I go
People will follow.
I am Qalme Tari Mistress of Death Nat. Norville.
Cretics Welcome
poem by Athena Goddess of Wisdom Lumis Light to all
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Magic Well
Magic well, Magic well, Magic well
Curiouslly u walk toward me with a coin dangling in thy hand
cast a coin upon me and make a wish for a coin gives birth to a dream of wish
look upon me with thy reflection on my face and cast your coin and let out your wish for u never know when it come 2 pass
cast a coin and make a wish for i'll grant it to u...
poem by Paul World
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Loathing Christmas
Longing under the moon of damns and darkness
Feral tantrums of woe begins its address
My decent self had not but bawled its sadness
On the praised, inculcated and sulted mistress
Now Christmas come again and forevermore
My heart sings the sorrow it always adore.
The night solstice comes once again and occur
I remembered, I begged my God, mercy implore!
Memories I see and sorrow I cannot flee
Of the Christmas yonder there at the oakened tree
A Christmas night enfeebled by the worst disgrace
Of the insult spout by thy beloved mistress
Abandoned was I and left to posses solace
I was unable to concur her cruel transgress
I mourned and lament on the cruelty I can't flee
Of the Christmas yonder there at the oakened tree
Below this tree I yen of that broken affair
I yen in sorrow of what will Christmas leave me bare
Those hours when impungence so foul did even dare
Distress the moments, concuring a dame so fair
Longing under the moon of damns and darkness
Feral tantrums of woe begins its address
My decent self had not but bawled its sadness
On the praised, inculcated and sulted mistress
poem by Shabati Dokyu
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Compulsive Obsession
The miser sits and counts his gold
well wrapped in rags against the cold.
He has no fire he lacks the sense
He cannot bear to spend his pence.
He dines upon stale bread and cheese
sometimes porridge made from peas
to satisfy his appetite.
His bags of coin his one delight.
He has no friends he trusts no man
for they will rob him if they can.
He lives in abject poverty
to spend a coin is misery.
I do not envy him his gold
a bitter man who’s heart is cold.
I share what little comes my way
I cannot make my few pence stay.
But count my self a wealthy man
The miser save all that he can
and lives alone in misery.
I think that he should envy me.
8-Jun-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poetic piers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Poverty is no disgrace, but neither do you have to take pride in it.
She Knows Not
She is the mistress,
of his feelings.
Lay bare he does...
and stare out of heat mist windows.
Capturing moonlight,
on his skin with wishes to be touched.
She is the mistress,
of his feelings.
Unapologetic are rays carried,
from him he thrusts.
He trusts that she
will someday receive his yearning.
He burns in hunger longing...
And she knows not of his need!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Her Mission
She is so winsome and so wise
She sways me at her will,
And oft the question will arise,
What mission does she fill?
O then I say with pride untold,
And love beyond degree,
This woman with the heart of gold,
She just keeps house for me-
For me,
She just keeps house for me!
A full content dwells on her face,
She's quite in love with life,
And for a title wears with grace
The sweet old-fashioned 'wife.'
Our children climb upon her knee,
And nestle on her breast,
And ah! her mission seems to me
The grandest and the best.
O then I say with pride untold,
And love beyond degree,
This woman with the heart of gold,
She just keeps house for me-
For me,
She just keeps house for me!
poem by Jean Blewett
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Seed-Time And Harvest
MY hollyhocks are all awake,
And not a single rose is lost;
My wallflowers, for dear pity's sake,
Have fought the winter's cruel frost;
Pink peony buds begin to peer,
And flags push up their sword-blades fine:
I know there will not be this year
A brighter garden plot than mine.
I'll sow the seeds of mignonette,
Of snapdragon and sunflowers tall,
And scarlet poppies I will set
To flower against the southern wall;
Already all my lilies show
The green crowns baby lilies wear,
And all my flowers will grow and blow,
Because Love's hand has set them there.
I'll plant and water, sow and weed,
Till not an inch of earth shows brown,
And take a vow of each small seed
To grow to greenness and renown:
And then some day you'll pass my way,
See gold and crimson, bell and star,
And catch my garden's soul, and say:
'How sweet these cottage gardens are!'
poem by Edith Nesbit
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We Made it Happen.
For years this dusty track trekked
Most times on empty stomach
But always full of enthusiasm
Flowing from pride and hope
The pride of being a scholar
The hope of becoming a giant
Like the city heavy weights
We had cause to make it happen
For years their trivial takings exhausted
Most times own pleasure forfeited
But always beaming with conviction
Emanating from pride and hope
The pride of being a responsible parent
The hope of breeding a star
Like the few celebrities around
They had ground to make it happen
For years we studied seriously
Most times having sleepless nights
Always pushed by conviction and awareness
The conviction that education is key to success
Awareness of the fact, very obvious
Success stems from hard work
Persistence, passion and poise
These weapons made it happen
For many years our dreams kept alive
Fuelled by unwavering hope
Hope of future bright
Future void of this poverty, blight
Equipped with tool to change families’ plight
Ushering comfort and self-esteem to parents
Parents who extracted wealth from soil
To invest in our education
To ensure we reached our destination
We made it happen
poem by Emmanuel Oduro
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Green Green Grass Of Home
The old home town looks the same as I step off the train
Meeting every train in my mind's eye till the man in mail came
Hair like gold, lips like cherry
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home
Green, green grass of home, green green grass of home.
Only dream I know of is to be found hair like gold, lips like a cherry
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home
They'll all come to greet me, on the steps of my sweet dream
It's good I dreamt the green, green grass of home
I wait and look around me at the broken walls that surround me
And out here I was on the ground.
There's a garden in the path of progress unharmed through winter's day break
Then I'll touch the green, green grass of home
They'll all come to greet me from the chains of the old dark hollow
The green, green grass of home
They'll all come to greet me on the steps, my sweet dream
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Green Flower Street
Uptown
Its murder out in the street
Uptown
Its murder out in the street
Thats where I found my mandarin plum
Thats where youd be if you found one
Where the nights are bright
And joy is complete
Keep my squeeze on green flower street
Since may
Theres trouble most every night
Where once we danced our sweet routine
It reeks of wine and kerosene
Where the nights are bright
And joy is complete
Keep my squeeze on green flower street
Theres a special place for lovers
One we understand
There where neon bends in daylight sky
In that sunny room she soothes me
Cools me with her fan
Were drifting
A thousand years roll by
Lou chang
Her brother hes burning with rage
Lou chang
Her brother hes burning with rage
Id like to know whats on his mind
He says hey buddy youre not my kind
Where the nights are bright
And joy is complete
Keep my squeeze on green flower street
song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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