Portsmouth's Looking Glass
Methinks I see you, newly risen
From your embroider'd Bed and pissing,
With studied mien and much grimace,
Present yourself before your glass,
To vanish and smooth o'er those graces,
You rubb'd off in your Night Embraces.
poem by Lord John Wilmot
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Related quotes
Time
I saw Time in his workshop carving faces;
Scattered around his tools lay, blunting griefs,
Sharp cares that cut out deeply in reliefs
Of light and shade; sorrows that smooth the traces
Of what were smiles. Nor yet without fresh graces
His handiwork, for ofttimes rough were ground
And polished, oft the pinched made smooth and round;
The calm look, too, the impetuous fire replaces.
Long time I stood and watched; with hideous grin
He took each heedless face between his knees,
And graved and scarred and bleached with boiling tears.
I wondering turned to go, when, lo! my skin
Feels crumpled, and in glass my own face sees
Itself all changed, scarred, careworn, white with years.
poem by Frederick George Scott
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Tubthumping
We'll be singing
When we're winning
We'll be singing
I get knocked down but I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down but I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down but I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
Pissing the night away
Pissing the night away
He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him of the better times:
"Oh Danny Boy
song performed by by Chumbawamba from Tubthumper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Glass War
Glass war, glass war, glass war, glass war, it's a glass war
Glass war, glass war, it's a glass war
Glass war, glass war
It's a glass war
Cause you can see right through the poisen
It's a glass war
Cause we all know the activeties
It's a glass war
Cause it's made of smoke and mirrors
It's a glass war
It's a glass war
It's a glass war
Cause only poor men are dyin in the
Gas war
Cause we know why it was started
It's an ass war
Cause the president's an asshole
It's an ass war
It's a glass war
It's a gas war
Cause the starters are all victims of the
Glass war
The slogan men were starters of the
Last war
Now the southern men are starters of the
Glass war
It's a Glass War
It's a Glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
And the shards are gunna start another glass war
It's a glass war
It's a glass war
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With Them
with me is an emerald mountain
below the turquoise blue sea
with me are the trees
and the sun that cast me a shadow
with me is a glass of wine
and a stick of pork barbecue
with me is the night that covers me
with stars and a moon colored gold
how can i be lonely then?
how can i be so alone in the middle
of all these treasures
these beauty these graces?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When, Dearest, I But Think On Thee
When, dearest, I but think on thee,
Methinks all things that lovely be
Are present, and my soul delighted:
For beauties that from worth arise
Are like the grace of deities,
Still present with us, though unsighted.
Thus while I sit and sigh the day
With all his spreading lights away,
Till night's black wings do overtake me:
Thinking on thee, thy beauties then,
As sudden lights do sleeping men,
So they by their bright rays awake me.
Thus absence dies, and dying proves
No absence can consist with loves
That do partake of fair perfection:
Since in the darkest night they may
By their quick motion find a way
To see each other by reflection.
The waving sea can with such flood
Bathe some high palace that hath stood
Far from the main up in the river:
Oh think not then but love can do
As much, for that's an ocean too,
That flows not every day, but ever.
poem by Owen Felltham
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Have You Ever Been?
Have you ever been
Tied to the past
Striving for the future
Yet stuck in a holocaust
Have you ever been
Living two lives
One in the past, hidden from all
One in the present, to show them all
Have you ever been
Loved so pure
To hold, is all you want to do
Yet you let go, for love is true
Have you ever been
Content! !
Content of the past and the present
Or do you see yourself linger, from one to the other end...
Have you ever been...?
Have you ever been...?
poem by Mien Bless
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When, Dearest, I But Think of Thee
When, dearest I but think of thee,
Methinks all things that lovely be
Are present, and my soul delighted:
For beauties that from worth arise
Are like the grace of deities,
Still present with us, tho’ unsighted.
Thus while I sit and sigh the day
With all his borrow’d lights away,
Till night’s black wings do overtake me,
Thinking on thee, thy beauties then,
As sudden lights do sleepy men,
So they by their bright rays awake me.
Thus absence dies, and dying proves
No absence can subsist with loves
That do partake of fair perfection:
Since in the darkest night they may
By love’s quick motion find a way
To see each other by reflection.
The waving sea can with each flood
Bathe some high promont that hath stood
Far from the main up in the river:
O think not then but love can do
As much! for that’s an ocean too,
Which flows not every day, but ever!
poem by John Suckling
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Triolet: Snowflakes
The snowflakes of the winter night
Crown the land with regal mien;
The driving wind seems to incite
The snowflakes of the winter night
To obfuscate the lunar light.
What purpose lurks behind this scene -
The snowflakes of the winter night
Which crown the land with regal mien?
poem by Richard St. Clair
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Frankness As Never Before
i live & dwell
right next to the bathroom
with four older brothers
& two younger
so all i hear
all day &
night
is the sound of pissing;
i want to thank you for the metaphor
in the very beginning.
how true it was,
is, will be
that i will piss my way onto the
screen.
poem by S./j. Goldner
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Gliding In The Air
A bird is wrestling the wind with its feathers,
Even then the flight is smooth, as smooth as the air.
Best of the eagles are against the flight of others,
Eventually they look like a mouth, as smooth as the air.
A strange spectacle has been captured in the rain,
After a bird, not reptile, does fly south, as smooth as the air.
When strangers bespeak a multifarious journey through the air,
I gather it is more than just levitation or youth, as smooth as the air.
I love the young journey to the east,
A happy rhythm up north, as smooth as the air.
Why do we hesitate to look powerful?
When we glide in the sky, as smooth as the air.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Is Night gentle?
Night closes doors forever
Night cures my soul as a medicine
In Night should’nt be doubted ever
Night sense increases to everything
At Night you can shed your tears
At night we are flying to planets
At Night always deadens fears
At Night we are full of violence
At Night you will close embraces –
And Night this caress will cover
At Night you’ll remove your dresses
And God blesses you, my lover
In Night rises dizziness and passion
At Night you’re with itself alone
At Night - reign, you’re free in action
At Night nothing keeps in your soul
Night reconciles spirits, right you’re
At Night it is useless to wager
In Night it is stuffy and frightful
Tonight I shall leave you like voyager...
poem by Markelov Vladimir
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Sonnet 103: Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth
Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth,
That having such a scope to show her pride,
The argument all bare is of more worth
Than when it hath my added praise beside.
O, blame me not if I no more can write!
Look in your glass, and there appears a face
That overgoes my blunt invention quite,
Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace.
Were it not sinful then striving to mend,
To mar the subject that before was well?
For to no other pass my verses tend
Than of your graces and your gifts to tell;
And more, much more than in my verse can sit,
Your own glass shows you when you look in it.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Scandalmonger
Good Morrow gossip art thou well?
Methinks thou hast some news to tell,
what scandal now has reached thine ears.
Must thou believe all that thou hears?
And must thou then embroider it
to make a tastier tidbit.
Thou spreadest rumour cheerfully
shouldst thou not tremble fearfully
Does not thy conscience bother thee.
Art thou so blind thou canst not see,
thy flapping tongue doth cause distress
to honest folk who are helpless.
Against thy tongue there’s no defence.
None can proclaim their innocence.
21-May-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Those Few Weeks...
i may be a surprise
you seeing me strumming the strings of an old guitar
and i shall not fail to remember on the first few weeks
after our wedding day
what a guitarist you are
strumming my smooth and glossy guitar
cautiously you made my my ribs sing
as i trembled with all joy
and perhaps you must remember too
how i caressed your hair
like i was finding some lyrics of my own song
for you that night
when the sky was young and the stars
were newly born
they were all flickering like some fireflies
we must remember....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Last night I had a dream
Last night i had a dream
a dream about a future
a future that i had buried
deep within
A dream that made me wonder
how deep is that burial place
within me
Last night i had a dream
a dream about a past
a past that my memory
refuses to name.
Dug up by another name from
that very past
Last night i had a dream
a dream about the present
a present that i choose to
live in oblivion off.
a present with hurt, betrayal
pain and sadness
A present that however hard
i run away from shackles
me to my past and my future
chains, which i am unable to
break free from
which tie me down and make me who and what i am
Last night i had a dream
do i wish to wake up and
face reality.
are not the dream and the reality
one and the same.
Last night i had a dream
a dream or was i awake
finally.
poem by Jasveen Ahluwalia
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A Sense of Humor
No man should stand before the moon
To make sweet song thereon,
With dandified importance,
His sense of humor gone.
Nay, let us don the motley cap,
The jester's chastened mien,
If we would woo that looking-glass
And see what should be seen.
O mirror on fair Heaven's wall,
We find there what we bring.
So, let us smile in honest part
And deck our souls and sing.
Yea, by the chastened jest alone
Will ghosts and terrors pass,
And fays, or suchlike friendly things,
Throw kisses through the glass.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Humanities Lecture
Aristotle was a little man with
eyes like a lizard, and he found a streak
down the midst of things, a smooth place for his feet
much more important than the carved handles
on the coffins of the great.
He said you should put your hand out
at the time and place of need:
strength matters little, he said,
nor even speed.
His pupil, a king's son, died
at an early age. That Aristotle spoke of him
it is impossible to find—the youth was
notorious, a conqueror, a kid with a gang,
but even this Aristotle didn't ever say.
Around the farthest forest and along
all the bed of the sea, Aristotle studied
immediate, local ways. Many of which
were wrong. So he studied poetry.
There, in pity and fear, he found Man.
Many thinkers today, who stand low and grin,
have little use for anger or power, its palace
or its prison—
but quite a bit for that little man
with eyes like a lizard.
poem by William Stafford
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Untitled: The stillness of the deceased loves the old garden,
The stillness of the deceased loves the old garden,
The madwoman who dwelled in blue rooms,
In the evening the still shape appears in the window
She, however, closes the yellowed curtain -
The trickling of the glass beads reminded of our childhood,
At night we found a black moon in the forest
The soft sonata sounds in a mirror's blueness
Long embraces
Her smile glides over the dying one's mouth.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Don't Cry
Why do you cry? He has risen.
Why are you weeping? He's not dead.
Why do you cry? he has risen.
Why are you weeping? He's not dead.
He paid it all on that lonely highway(hayyyy). And his anointing I can feel. He shed his blood (ohh ohh ohh). For my
transgressions (ohh ohh ohh). And by his stripes we are healed.
Why do you cry? He has risen.
Why are you weeping? He's not dead.
So as you go through lifes journey(neeeee). Don't you worry lift up your head. Don't you cry (ohh ohh ohh) stop your weeping
(ohh ohh ohh) He has risen He's not dead.
[Chorus]
Don't cry
wipe your eyes
He's not dead.
(ohh ohh ohh ohh)
Don't weep
He's not asleep
Je-hovah
He's not dead
(ohh ohh ohh ohh)
Don't cry
wipe your eyes
He's not dead
[with modulation repeat 4x's]
song performed by by Kirk Franklin from The Rebirth Of Kirk Franklin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Almost Broken Glass Bottle
For a while now I've been afraid to say or show how I feel, so instead I go around telling people I'm tough, pretending to be made of steel
All of my feelings I shoved into a bottle made of glass, and as I shoved this glass bottle inside myself I prayed these feelings wouldn't last
The more of my feelings I shoved into it the fuller my glass bottle got, the only problem is once I started to shove all my feeling into it, I didn't know how to stop
Even if you were to ask me if I was okay I'd put on a smile and say I'm fine, even though deep down inside I know I'm lying
So here we are present day and despite my efforts to stop it, my glass bottle and I have started to crack and I know any minute now both of us are going to snap
No matter how much I wish it wasn't so, no matter how much all together I wish my glass bottle and I would stay, I know deep down that my almost broken glass bottle is any second gonna give way
poem by Tiger Lily Love
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