The Retirement Of Mars
He pauses on his way, and gazing back
across the desert ways of splintered steel
recalls the noon, and sees his weary track,
and sees the bloody imprint of his heel.
A Mars long tired he stands-a noble Mars!
Stiff with the staggering day, and fields hard won.
His bruised helm is glittering with scars
that gleam afar and spy the setting sun.
With red plumes doffed and foe-revering face
he moves adroop, to seek the sea, the waves,
to seek the sighing winds, the shades of space,
and rest his heart within Twilight Caves.
The dazzling axe is deep, its lord abed.
The dead are lying with the friendly dead!
poem by Leon Gellert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Scribe's Prayer
When from my fumbling hand the tired pen falls,
And in the twilight weary droops my head;
While to my quiet heart a still voice calls,
Calls me to join my kindred of the Dead:
Grant that I may, O Lord, ere rest be mine,
Write to Thy praise one radiant, ringing line.
For all of worth that in this clay abides,
The leaping rapture and the ardent flame,
The hope, the high resolve, the faith that guides:
All, all is Thine, and liveth in Thy name:
Lord, have I dallied with the sacred fire!
Lord, have I trailed Thy glory in the mire!
E'en as a toper from the dram-shop reeling,
Sees in his garret's blackness, dazzling fair,
All that he might have been, and, heart-sick, kneeling,
Sobs in the passion of a vast despair:
So my ideal self haunts me alway --
When the accounting comes, how shall I pay?
For in the dark I grope, nor understand;
And in my heart fight selfishness and sin:
Yet, Lord, I do not seek Thy helping hand;
Rather let me my own salvation win:
Let me through strife and penitential pain
Onward and upward to the heights attain.
Yea, let me live my life, its meaning seek;
Bear myself fitly in the ringing fight;
Strive to be strong that I may aid the weak;
Dare to be true -- O God! the Light, the Light!
Cometh the Dark so soon. I've mocked Thy Word;
Yet do I know Thy Love: have mercy, Lord. . . .
FINIS
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dream Land
Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep,
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.
She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.
Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.
Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti (1893)
Submitted by anonym
Vote! | Copy!
Dream-Land
Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep
She sleeps a charmed sleep:
Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are
Her pleasant lot.
She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn
And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale
That sadly sings.
Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast;
Her face is toward the west,
The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain;
She cannot feel the rain
Upon her hand.
Rest, rest, for evermore
Upon a mossy shore;
Rest, rest at the heart's core
Till time shall cease:
Sleep that no pain shall wake;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake
Her perfect peace.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Mars Bar
Oh, lord have mercy for the blessed Mars Bar!
I taste the nought and caramel in my mouth,
And it goes so far,
Just that one Mars Bar!
That Mars Bar can ease my troubles,
And leave me at peace,
For chocolate bars are both a blessing and a curse,
I can't choose which is worse,
Oh, heavenly Mars Bar!
And in the shop I look around,
And see other chocolate and candy bars,
Feeling so ravenous and famished,
Sometimes a galaxy bar will do,
But I always come back,
To the faithful Mars Bar!
The naughty ritual of the schoolgirl,
Pressured to diet,
Dreading the day she will be middle aged and fat,
Not to mention a housewife,
But times are changing,
Curvy is in,
For eating never was a sin,
Oh, wonderful Mars Bar!
I am older now,
But remember fondly those trips,
To the corner shop,
Feeling quietly delighted,
At the same time,
Oh, glorious Mars Bar!
poem by Paula Glynn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As One Who Having Wandered All Night Long
AS one who having wandered all night long
In a perplexed forest, comes at length
In the first hours, about the matin song,
And when the sun uprises in his strength,
To the fringed margin of the wood, and sees,
Gazing afar before him, many a mile
Of falling country, many fields and trees,
And cities and bright streams and far-off Ocean's smile:
I, O Melampus, halting, stand at gaze:
I, liberated, look abroad on life,
Love, and distress, and dusty travelling ways,
The steersman's helm, the surgeon's helpful knife,
On the lone ploughman's earth-upturning share,
The revelry of cities and the sound
Of seas, and mountain-tops aloof in air,
And of the circling earth the unsupported round:
I, looking, wonder: I, intent, adore;
And, O Melampus, reaching forth my hands
In adoration, cry aloud and soar
In spirit, high above the supine lands
And the low caves of mortal things, and flee
To the last fields of the universe untrod,
Where is no man, nor any earth, nor sea,
And the contented soul is all alone with God.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Set The Twilight Reeling
Take me for what I am
A star newly emerging
Long simmering explodes
Inside the self is reeling
In the pocket of the heart, in the rushing of the blood
In the muscle of my sex, in the mindful mindless love
I accept the new found man
And set the twilight reeling
At 5 am the moon and the sun
Sit set before my window
Light glances off the blue glass we set
Right before the window
And you who accept, in your soul and your head
What was misunderstood, what was thought of with dread
A new self is born, the other self dead
I accept the new found man
And set the twilight reeling
A soul singer stands on the stage
The spotlight shows him sweating
He sinks to one knee, seems to cry
The horn are unrelenting
But as the drums beats he finds himself growing hard
In the microphones face he sees her face growing large
And the swelling crescendo no longer retards
I accept the new found man and set the twilight reeling
As the twilight sunburst gleams
As the chromium moon it sets
As I lose all my regrets
And set the twilight reeling
I accept the new found man
And set the twilight reeling
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Hamilton
WILD and wet, and windy wet falls the night on Hamilton,
Hamilton that seaward looks unto the setting sun,
Lady of the patient face, lifted everlastingly,
Veiled and hushed and mystical as a cloistered nun.
O the days, the cruel days creeping over Hamilton
Like a train of haggard ghosts, homeless and accursed,
Moaning for a fleet o’ dream silver-sailed and wonderful,
Moaning for a sorrow’s sake, the fairest and the first.
O the moon, the lonely moon, leaning low on Hamilton,
Thro’ the years that sunder us the dead come back, come back,
Scent of white eucrephia stars blown on winds of Memory,
Glint and gleam of fagus gold adown the torrent’s track.
Half my heart is buried there, buried high on Hamilton,
Lonely is the sepulchre with never stone for sign,
Where the nodding myrtle-plumes stand like sable sentinels
And the ruddy rimony wreathes the hooded pine.
Half my heart is yearning yet, yearning yet for Hamilton,
Hamilton beyond the surge of sobbing Southern main,
O the croon of wistful winds calling, calling, calling me,
Where the mottled mountain thrush is singing in the rain.
We shall ne’er go back again, back again to Hamilton,
Heart o’ me, our track is toward the heart of burning day,
Hills beyond the call of hills beaconing and beckoning—
Westward, westward winds the track, a thread of dusky grey.
poem by Marie E J Pitt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lovers Time Will Tell
To seek love life’s answer it’s in no book
The eyes are blind if of this you look
Past scholars have written it in the stars
When Venus doeth’ a line with Mars
Wrapping her love around the planet of steel
This for man and woman here's the deal
For man to hold the band of steel secure
A bond of love, enticing quality deep for her to lure
Then as lovers seek truth for lovers together to dwell
Truth and time travel side by side, the answer
-time will surely tell-
poem by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Sea By The Wood
I DWELL in the sea that is wild and deep,
But afar in a shadow still,
I can see the trees that gather and sleep
In the wood upon the hill.
The deeps are green as an emerald's face,
The caves are crystal calm,
But I wish the sea were a little trace
Of moisture in God's palm.
The waves are weary of hiding pearls,
Are aweary of smothering gold,
They would all be air that sweeps and swirls
In the branches manifold.
They are weary of laving the seaman's eyes
With their passion prayer unsaid,
They are weary of sobs and the sudden sighs
And movements of the dead.
All the sea is haunted with human lips
Ashen and sere and gray,
You can hear the sails of the sunken ships
Stir and shiver and sway
In the weary solitude;
If mine were the will of God, the main
Should melt away in the rustling wood
Like a mist that follows the rain.
But I dwell in the sea that is wild and deep
And afar in the shadow still,
I can see the trees that gather and sleep
In the wood upon the hill.
poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Johnsons Aeroplane
Four long lines one darker than the rest
Each one has a purpose making borders on the land
Farmers pride you know he works real hard
]from a small aeroplane you can see the fields
Heart shaped hedges
Japanese gardens
A place to work and grow
A place to work and grow
Four long years one leaner than the rest
The animals are fed and the pastures dry
Farmers pride if the weather doesnt lie
]from a small aeroplane you can see the sea
Lots of blue
Very deep blue
A place to work and grow
A place to work and grow
Johnson sees the fields from all the sides
Steel machines and black tar roads
Countryside where the spirit never dies
In his face all the history shows
Farmers pride as the rains came down
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
God’s Revival
Some may focus on survival, when what we need is true revival,
Revival of the spiritual kind, which moves in the heart and mind.
Revival may be man’s desire, but comes from one much higher,
The revival that I’m speaking of, comes through the Lord above.
Before revival can have a start, we must first prepare our heart,
Just like a farmer prepares a field, so that a new crop will yield,
Preparing our heart to be right, as broken for God and contrite,
So God can have His way in us, in the likeness of Christ Jesus.
Humility is that place to start, as believers seek to do their part,
As we yield our heart to Him, for God to change us from within.
Next we take this need and care, to a Sovereign Lord in prayer,
Who alone moves hearts of men, like nothing else on earth can.
Then as we seek God’s face, He sends upon His people Grace,
Along with His Spirit, to do His will, as God’s purpose we fulfill.
And friend, with all this in mind, we must leave old ways behind,
Turning away from all evil ways, as we seek to give God praise.
Praise not from things men do, but, how God uses me and you,
As we turn away from our sin, and His Revival, God does begin,
With His purpose and in His time, not by man’s religious design,
Using this present generation, to share His Gospel of Salvation.
(Copyright ©04/2008)
The artist should not only paint what he sees before him, but also what he sees in himself. If, however, he sees nothing within him, then he should also refrain from painting what he sees before him. Otherwise his pictures will be like those folding screens behind which one expects to find only the sick or the dead.
quote by Caspar David Friedrich
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
The Cemetery of Hearts
It was a Cemetery of Hearts
laid out in neat rectangular squares
tombstone engravings of individual stories;
of loves lost and betrayed,
tear-ravaged love trysts.
love cuts, severed
or grief-laden,
all buried in Innocent's Ground
from whence they came.
I peered at the writing on first tombstone and then some others:
'He led me on and then made love to my mother
all this to me unknown.' one said
'I died in childbirth alone after having been exiled
from my home to a nunnery.'
'She plotted against me with my best friend.'
'She told me the baby was mine.'
'I died of grief in a sex war and of an affection-less marriage.'
My love and I were shot lying together.'
One said:
'Dead hearts murdered by rage or fear are the worst;
these hearts die gnarled and alone.'
The caretaker addressed me:
'What are you doing here? ' he said.
'I came to bury my heart with the rest of them.' I said.
'Really he said. Let me have a look.
This heart, ' he said is not really dead.
'I can't bury a heart that is yet alive.
that would be murder and wrong;
away with you.
You are premature. Go. Take this heart
and feed it, make it live again.'
I was shocked. To me this rejection was
yet another heart-ache to endure.
'My heart is not dead enough? ' I said.
'That's right, ' he said, yours is merely slightly used
and a little bruised but not dead.'
'
This cemetery is Innocent Ground,
a healing place for deceased hearts,
not ones merely tired and bruised.'
'Go back out there, take some courage from this dream.
The sores on your heart will heal
and be stronger then
for someone else you'll meet.
'You are stronger than you think.
We are really short of space here
we take only the really bad heart cases.'
'Go he said
dive right back in.'
He was right.
'And, ' he said
'Never underestimate the human heart;
it is the human brain that most times
that's wrong and prematurely deceased.'
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When I Was Fair And Young
When I was fair and young, then favor graced me.
Of many was I sought their mistress for to be.
But I did scorn them all and answered them therefore:
Go, go, go, seek some other where; importune me no more.
How many weeping eyes I made to pine in woe,
How many sighing hearts I have not skill to show,
But I the prouder grew and still this spake therefore:
Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.
Then spake fair Venus’ son, that proud victorious boy,
Saying: You dainty dame, for that you be so coy,
I will so pluck your plumes as you shall say no more:
Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.
As soon as he had said, such change grew in my breast
That neither night nor day I could take any rest.
Wherefore I did repent that I had said before:
Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.
poem by Queen Elizabeth I
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sunset at Scarborough
When you saw
The Golden Sun
Setting on the Sea
At Scarborough
And you thought of me, my love
I felt wonderful…
Being a part of the text
That you sent me
Being a part of your memory
As you remembered me…
Being a part of that
Moment in Time
When the Golden Sun
Was setting
On the Sea
At Scarborough.
As you stood there
In the Balcony
On the 22nd Floor
Of your Hotel-Room
Gazing at the
Swirling waters of the Sea
Radiant and Vibrant
In the oranges and reds
Of the Setting Sun’s
Majestic Charisma -
The waves and the tides
Playing hide and seek
With the lovely bright colours
Of the Setting Sun’s
Enchanting Enigma
I thought of your eyes…
Yes – those very beautiful
Eyes of yours,
With those long eyelashes
That make your eyes
All the more expressive, deep
And enchanting…
Like the Setting Sun’s
Ethereal Beauty
In that evening sea
At Scarborough
I felt like kissing those eyes…
Yes – those very same eyes
Tired and aching
After a hard day’s work
Seeking some relaxing moments
To rejuvenate itself
In the Setting Sun’s
Evening Glory…
On the Scarborough Sea
Before they again endure
Another ordeal of
Another Day’s
Hard Work.
So my love, please accept my kisses…
For they are truly meant for you
More so, for those lovely eyes of yours
Hope these kisses of mine
Help to preserve your wonderful memories
Of the setting sun’s myriad hues
What a beautiful way to bid adieus…
As it goes deep down
Far beyond the horizon
Into the lows and highs
Of the waves and tides
On the Scarborough Sea.
And here across the miles
I wait for that auspicious moment, my love
When you and me together
Will sit and talk and share…
Of how you felt at Scarborough
And how I felt being there with you
In my thoughts, dreams
And fantasies…
And as you’ll unravel
Those preserved memories
Of the Setting Sun’s
Myriad Glories…
I’ll listen and ponder
Like a child in wonder!
Wondering at the Sun’s
Colourful Hues
Those Brilliant Views
OR
Wondering at the Splendour
Of you being there before me
With your beautiful eyes
For me to see…
You - the Radiant Sun for me
And I - the deep, deep sea
Waiting for you to set on me…
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Threnos
IN o more for us the little sighing.
No more the winds at twilight trouble us.
Lo the fair dead!
No more do I burn.
No more for us the fluttering of wings
That whirred in the air above us.
Lo the fair dead!
No more desire flayeth me,
No more for us the trembling
At the meeting of hands.
Lo the fair dead!
No more for us the wine of the lips,
No more for us the knowledge.
Lo the fair dead!
No more the torrent,
No more for us the meeting-place
(Lo the fair dead!)
Tintagoel.
poem by Ezra Pound
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hell Awaits
[Backwards: "Join us" x times]
[Welcome back]
Existing on damnation's edge
The priest had never known
To witness such a violent show
Of power overthrown
Angels fighting aimlessly
Still dying by the sword
Our legions killing all in sight
To get the one called Lord
The Gates of Hell lie waiting as you see
There's no price to pay just follow me
I can take your lost soul from the grave
Jesus knows your soul can not be saved
Crucify the so called Lord
He soon shall fall to me
Your souls are damned your God has fell
To slave for me eternally
Hell awaits...
The Reaper guard's the darkened Gates
That Satan calls his home
Demons feed the furnace where
The Dead are free to roam
Lonely children of the night
There's seven ways to go
Each leading to the burning hole
The Lucifer controls
Priests of Hades seek the sacred star
Satan sees the answer lies not far
Zombies screaming souls cry out to you
Satanic laws prevail your life is through
Pray to the moon... when it is round
Death with you shall then abound
What you seek... for can't be found
In sea or sky or underground
Now I have you deep inside my everlasting grasp
The seven bloody Gates of Hell
Is where you'll live your last
Warriors from Hell's Domain
Will bring you to your Death
The flames of Hades burning strong
Your soul shall never rest
The Gates of Hell lie waiting as you see
There's no price to pay just follow me
I can take your lost soul from the grave
Jesus knows your soul can not be saved
Sacrifice the lives of all I know they
Soon shall die
Their souls are damned to rot in Hell
and keep the fire growing deep inside
Hell awaits...
song performed by by Slayer from Hell Awaits
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Old and the New
Mars! Mars!
Thy clashing sword was keen
And glittering with stars.
Thine armour sheen
Shone to the terrored sky,
And o’er the bodies of thy foes
With open blows
Didst step to victory.
War! War!
They hidden horrors sound
And echo from afar.
Upon the ground
Thou liest now in fear
To wait the cunning chance
To thrust thy lance,
And hurl thy poisoned spear.
poem by Leon Gellert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rejected
She says she’s very sorry, as she sees you to the gate;
You calmly say ‘Good-bye’ to her while standing off a yard,
Then you lift your hat and leave her, walking mighty stiff and straight—
But you’re hit, old man—hit hard.
In your brain the words are burning of the answer that she gave,
As you turn the nearest corner and you stagger just a bit;
But you pull yourself together, for a man’s strong heart is brave
When it’s hit, old man—hard hit.
You might try to drown the sorrow, but the drink has no effect;
You cannot stand the barmaid with her coarse and vulgar wit;
And so you seek the street again, and start for home direct,
When you’re hit, old man—hard hit.
You see the face of her you lost, the pity in her smile—
Ah! she is to the barmaid as is snow to chimney grit;
You’re a better man and nobler in your sorrow, for a while,
When you’re hit, old man—hard hit.
And, arriving at your lodgings, with a face of deepest gloom,
You shun the other boarders and your manly brow you knit;
You take a light and go upstairs directly to your room—
But the whole house knows you’re hit.
You clutch the scarf and collar, and you tear them from your throat,
You rip your waistcoat open like a fellow in a fit;
And you fling them in a corner with the made-to-order coat,
When you’re hit, old man—hard hit.
You throw yourself, despairing, on your narrow little bed,
Or pace the room till someone starts with ‘Skit! cat!—skit!’
And then lie blindly staring at the plaster overhead—
You are hit, old man—hard hit.
It’s doubtful whether vanity or love has suffered worst,
So neatly in our nature are those feelings interknit,
Your heart keeps swelling up so bad, you wish that it would burst,
When you’re hit, old man—hard hit.
You think and think, and think, and think, till you go mad almost;
Across your sight the spectres of the bygone seem to flit;
The very girl herself seems dead, and comes back as a ghost,
When you’re hit, like this—hard hit.
You know that it’s all over—you’re an older man by years,
In the future not a twinkle, in your black sky not a split.
Ah! you’ll think it well that women have the privilege of tears,
When you’re hit, old man—hard hit.
You long and hope for nothing but the rest that sleep can bring,
And you find that in the morning things have brightened up a bit;
But you’re dull for many evenings, with a cracked heart in a sling,
When you’re hit, old man—hard hit.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ultima Thule: Bayard Taylor
Dead he lay among his books!
The peace of God was in his looks.
As the statues in the gloom
Watch o'er Maximilian's tomb,
So those volumes from their shelves
Watched him, silent as themselves.
Ah! his hand will nevermore
Turn their storied pages o'er;
Nevermore his lips repeat
Songs of theirs, however sweet.
Let the lifeless body rest!
He is gone, who was its guest;
Gone, as travellers haste to leave
An inn, nor tarry until eve.
Traveller! in what realms afar,
In what planet, in what star,
In what vast, aerial space,
Shines the light upon thy face?
In what gardens of delight
Rest thy weary feet to-night?
Poet! thou, whose latest verse
Was a garland on thy hearse;
Thou hast sung, with organ tone,
In Deukalion's life, thine own;
On the ruins of the Past
Blooms the perfect flower at last.
Friend! but yesterday the bells
Rang for thee their loud farewells;
And to-day they toll for thee,
Lying dead beyond the sea;
Lying dead among thy books,
The peace of God in all thy looks!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!