Dedication
LORD, on this paper white,
My soul would write
Tales that were heard of old
Of perilous things and bold;
Kings as young lions for pride;
Lost cities where they died
Last in the gate; the cry
That told some Eastern throng
A prophet was gone by;
The song of swords; the song
Of beautiful, fierce lords
Gone down among the swords;
The traffick and the breath
Of nations spilled in death;
The glory and the gleam
Of a whole age
Snared in a golden page,–
Such is my dream.
Yet thanks, if yet You give
The crumbs by which I live,–
Blown shreds of beauty, broken
Words half unspoken,
So faint, so faltering,
They may not truly show
The blue on a crow's wing,
The berry of a brier
Cupped in new snow
As though the snow lit fire, . . .
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Golden Eagle
In the bottom of an old greasy swamp, lies a golden eagle, it's shine now covered in grime.
It lies here, forgotten witness of the brave few who dare to venture where none ever do.
This golden eagle, doth many scars bear, tis many grooves where swords did tear.
Came they from a terrible fight, on a cold blustery day, where the hope of an army was blown away.
Hundreds of weary hungry men, tramping through unfamiliar ground, when in the midst of an ambush they were found.
These weary men, they were tired and cold. They raised the swords, though outnumbered, they were bold.
As the barbarians tore through their withering lines, and as their screaming comrades were consumed by fire,
They gripped the swords, and bid their families farewell, stood back to back, as the enemy did into their columns hack.
In the midst of this carnage, floated the golden eagle, symbol of their hope, their integrity, dream, and goal.
Round the eagle, they now stood, desperately outnumbered by an enemy their distant commanders had misunderstood.
They gave no quarter, expected none. Rallied round that golden eagle, and held together as one.
That eagle, it witnessed the havoc that they made as the enemy in cascades came.
It saw their courage in the face of death. The things they gave when they had nothing left.
It saw the lions rise from their sleep, the final blaze of glory, the heroics that make us weep.
Though all hope was lost, they still fought on like it was there, the golden eagle the focus of their care.
Till finally, the last man had fallen. With his last breath threw the man the eagle into the water.
Never would it fall into enemy hands, it would be the silent witness of these fallen men.
Though defeated, yet they fought on. Though hope was gone, still they fought on and on.
Their dream they never let die, heros they died, heroes for which the people would cry.
Golden eagle, doesn't alway mean victory. But the golden eagle, will never give in.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Crow & A Baby
A crow and a baby
Had an affair
The result was a landslide
The result was a dare
The result was a baby
Who wanted it all
Moved out of the dolls house
Moved out of the hall
With one wing on the town and a gleam in an eye of red
Said my father was a crow, now I want all fathers dead
Find the fathers of this world, treat them as a fatal foe
Put them in the deepest hole, then cover the pit with snow
With one wing on the town
And a gleam in an eye of red
Im just trying to tell you what youll come up against
If you venture from my side, if you think youre so mature
You will end up in a field, you will be someones manure
Mushrooms growing from your back
Feeding some damn carrion bird
Do you want to contribute
To the corruption of the world?
With one wing on the town
And a gleam in an eye of red
A crow and a baby
Had an affair
My dream was the baby
The crow was your hair
Parts of me love parts of you
That at least is obvious
Give my baby back to me
You must see its only just
With one wing on the town
And a gleam in an eye of red
With one wing on the town
And a gleam in an eye of red
With one wing on the town
And a gleam in an eye of red
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Broken Wing
Today I watched a robin
In our front yard
I thought by now that they schold all be gone.
With winter round the corner
Snow on its way
Surely something must be wrong.
Then in that old oak tree I finally saw her
Where she sat gazing down upon her mate
And the song that she was singing
Seemed to say Ill be right here
Id like to go, but your loves made me stay.
Hes got a broken wing
And thats why he cant fly
She just cant leave him there
So she stays by his side
Theyre just like you and me
Oh you shouldve heard her sing
They wont give up
Its just a broken wing.
I wish we all could learn
What they seem to have found
To love our families
When trouble comes around
Ill bet that God saw fit
To show them unto me
Him on the ground
Her in that tree.
Hes got a broken wing
And thats why he cant fly
She just cant leave him there
So she stays by his side
Theyre just like you and me
Oh you shouldve heard her sing
They wont give up
We wont give up
They wont give up
Its just a broken wing.
Ooooooooh...
Its just a broken wing.
song performed by by LeAnn Rimes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty XXV
And a poet said, "Speak to us of Beauty."
Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?
And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?
The aggrieved and the injured say, "Beauty is kind and gentle.
Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us."
And the passionate say, "Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread.
Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us."
The tired and the weary say, "beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in our spirit.
Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear of the shadow."
But the restless say, "We have heard her shouting among the mountains,
And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions."
At night the watchmen of the city say, "Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east."
And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say, "we have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset."
In winter say the snow-bound, "She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills."
And in the summer heat the reapers say, "We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair."
All these things have you said of beauty.
Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,
And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.
It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,
But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.
It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,
But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.
It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw,
But rather a garden forever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.
People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.
But you are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
But you are eternity and you are the mirror.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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All I Can Do Is Write About It
(allen collins -- ronnie vanzant)
Well this life that Ive lead has took me everywhere
There aint no place I aint never gone
But its kind of like the saying that you heard so many times
Well there just aint no plae like home
Did you ever see a she-gator protect her young
Or a fish in a river swimming free
Did you ever see the beauty of the hills of carolina
Or the sweetness of the grass in tennessee
And lord I cant make any changes
All I can do is write em in a song
I can see the concrete slowly creepin
Lord take me and mine before that comes
Do you like to see a mountain stream a-flowin
Do you like to see a youngun with his dog
Did you ever stop to think about, well, the air your breathin
Well you better listen to my song
And lord I cant make any changes
All I can do is write em in a song
I can see the concrete slowly creepin
Lord take me and mine before that comes
Im not tryin to put down no big cities
But the things they write about us is just a bore
Well you can take a boy out of ol dixieland
But youll never take ol dixie from a boy
And lord I cant make any changes
All I can do is write em in a song
I can see the concrete slowly creepin
Lord take me and mine before that comes
cause I can see the concrete slowly creepin
Lord take me and mine before that comes
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dot On White Sheet!
Green leaves of spring are not there;
Colourful flowers of all seasons are gone;
Only white snow covers all in winter!
Winter snow thick or thin is white sheet
That covers all colourful things long!
Scrubbing snow on the road is a daily exercise
To clear route for all vehicles to go smooth;
All covered with fur cloth move in the street;
This white snow is like a white sheet of paper;
All the movements on it are the dots of scribble!
Writers are hungry of white paper to write on;
Poets are fond of writing poems on white sheet;
And the matters on white paper are men on snow;
But nobody likes winter as all are for colourful life!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Long Ago & Far Away
Long ago a young man sits
And plays his waiting game
But things are not the same it seems
As in such tender dreams
Slowly passing sailing ships
On sunday afternoon
Like the people on the moon Ive seen
Are things not meant to be
Where do those golden rainbows end
(where do the rainbows end)
Why is this song so sad
(why is this song so sad)
Dreaming the dreams I dream my friend
(dreaming the dreams I dream)
Loving the love I love
To love is just a word Ive heard
When things are being said
Stories my poor head has told me
Can not stand the cold
And in between what might have been
And what has come to pass
Are misbegotten guests alas
And bits of broken glass
Where do your golden rainbows end
(where do the rainbows end)
Why is the song I sing so sad
(why is this song so sad)
Dreaming the dreams I dream my friend
(dreaming the dreams I dream)
Loving the love I love
To love to love to love
Where do your golden rainbows end
(where do the rainbows end)
Why is the song I sing so sad
(why is this song so sad)
Dreaming the dreams I dream my friend
(dreaming the dreams I dream)
Loving the love I love
To love to love to love
Whoa no no no no no
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Long Ago And Far Away
long ago a young man sits
and plays his waiting game
but things are not the same it seems
as in such tender dreams
slowly passing sailing ships
on sunday afternoon
like the people on the moon i've seen
are things not meant to be
where do those golden rainbows end
(where do the rainbows end)
why is this song so sad
(why is this song so sad)
dreaming the dreams i dream my friend
(dreaming the dreams i dream)
loving the love i love
to love is just a word i've heard
when things are being said
stories my poor head has told me
can not stand the cold
and in between what might have been
and what has come to pass
are misbegotten guests alas
and bits of broken glass
where do your golden rainbows end
(where do the rainbows end)
why is the song i sing so sad
(why is this song so sad)
dreaming the dreams i dream my friend
(dreaming the dreams i dream)
loving the love i love
to love to love to love
where do your golden rainbows end
(where do the rainbows end)
why is the song i sing so sad
(why is this song so sad)
dreaming the dreams i dream my friend
(dreaming the dreams i dream)
loving the love i love
to love to love to love
whoa no no no no no
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song About You
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
You’re all I can every think about
How you flood my dreams each night
How thinking of you takes my breath away
When I look up to the satellites
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
The long lost butterflies returned
How I hope my number you’ll dial
And how your memory smothers me with smiles
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
You were the only one
Who had enough of me to break my heart
And when love took over my heart
You tore it all apart.
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
I gave you my heart
Caught up in the thought
That we were off to a great start
But how you threw a damn dart
Right into the center of my heart
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
About how you crushed my heart
Not bothering to look back.
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
poem by Jess Schwarcz
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We Tried To Paint A Fire In The Snow
Red and orange, yellow
Maybe a touch of blue
Paint the sky with fire
And the snow with a barren hue
Can we catch these shadows with our hands
Or will the dusk refuse to play our game
I think the streetlamps want to breathe awhile
Before we fit them with a starry frame
The people pass and nod their vacant eyes
We paint them with a dash of loneliness
The keys for home sit anchored in their pockets
And all the words are written on their breath
The snow is whiter than the stone I found
That summer day in august at the shore
We said it looked just like a tiny moon
You held it till the daylight closed its door
But now the snow is growing cold as dawn
And all its left is pictures we could paint
That show two lovers with a broken brush
You paint a sky that I describe as faint
Red and orange, yellow
Maybe a touch of blue
I’ve painted love with fire
And the snow with a barren hue
poem by Ben Paynter
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Silent As Snow Falling To The Ground
Silent as snow falling to the ground
The speckled air abound
As whiteness cover all
First snow of the season
Tracks of white tail rabbits,
Squirrel in the sycamore
Shadow of the chain linked fence
Quietness sits by the door.
A poet’s pen to paper
To comprehend
What is piling deep in the cold
He mark this singular passing
This silent thing of its own doing
The wind blows a snow song
Without words or instruments
A song for the eyes and what pretends
To be the soul
And I twirl around and flair my arms
To sing along.
poem by David E. Patton
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Reconciliation
SOME may have blamed you that you took away
The verses that could move them on the day
When, the ears being deafened, the sight of the eyes blind
With lightning, you went from me, and I could find
Nothing to make a song about but kings,
Helmets, and swords, and half-forgotten things
That were like memories of you -- but now
We'll out, for the world lives as long ago;
And while we're in our laughing, weeping fit,
Hurl helmets, crowns, and swords into the pit.
But, dear, cling close to me; since you were gone,
My barren thoughts have chilled me to the bone.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Pro Rege Nostro
WHAT have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice again
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England: --
'Take and break us: we are yours,
England, my own!
Life is good, and joy runs high
Between English earth and sky:
Death is death; but we shall die
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
To the stars on your bugles blown!'
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies,
You could know nor dread nor ease,
Were the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song of your bugles blown, England --
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow
Oh the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since weve no place to go
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
Oh it doesnt show signs of stopping
And I bought some corn for popping
The lights are turned way down low
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
When we finally kiss goodnight
How I hate going out in the storm
But if you really hold me tight
All the way home Ill be warm
Oh the fire is slowly dying
And my dear were still good-bying
But as long as you love me so
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
song performed by by Martina Mcbride
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Have I Done For You
What have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:-
'Take and break us: we are yours,
'England, my own!
'Life is good, and joy runs high
'Between English earth and sky:
'Death is death; but we shall die
'To the Song on your bugles blown,
'England -
'To the stars on your bugles blown!
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies
You could know nor dread nor ease
Were the Song on your bugles blown,
England,
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Words on paper
Words on paper
~
Just words on paper
Where a story is told
An emotion revealed
Or a love laid to rest
Where a dream begins
An ambition is spoken
Perhaps a whim of fancy
Takes charge of the pen
To write what is written
Letters forming words
Shapley and beautiful
Expressions of a soul
Or a mind at play
There across the page
Words on paper
Written to have their say
poem by Matthew Holloway
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To Thank You, Lord
I thank You My Lord for this happy moment
Crossing my face with a half-moon smile
For the song in my soul and the tears of salt
This sacred melody draws from my eyes
Thank You Adonai for the sudden feeling
By which I stand inescapably moved
The sun on the Alps, the covering of snow
That rests only overshadowed by You
Praises on my tongue, Majestic of Ages
For each precious phrase locked within the Shema
Causing me to be born in Jewry
Commanded to write on the page of my heart
May they each arrive, to the ears of Almighty
These halting words of a man occupied
In collecting the tiny fragments of shells
That He by His Wisdom left buried to find
I will never be claiming to seeing you, Lord
Or think to your presence that I can come near
I must yet be a stranger, but I write to thank
The One known as You for the beauty in here.
poem by Frank Bana
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A Broken Wing
Today I watched a robin
In our front yard
I thought by now that they should all be gone.
With winter 'round the corner
Snow on its way
Surely something must be wrong.
Then in that old oak tree I finally saw her
Where she sat gazing down upon her mate
And the song that she was singing
Seemed to say "I'll be right here"
"I'd like to go, but your love's made me stay."
He's got a broken wing
And that's why he can't fly
She just can't leave him there
So she stays by his side
They're just like you and me
Oh you should've heard her sing
They won't give up
It's just a broken wing.
I wish we all could learn
What they seem to have found
To love our families
When trouble comes around
I'll bet that God saw fit
To show them unto me
Him on the ground
Her in that tree.
song performed by by LeAnn Rimes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death
The awful seers of old who wrote, in words
Like drops of blood, great thoughts that through the night
Of ages burn, as eyes of lions light
Deep jungle-dusks; who smote with songs like swords
The soul of man on its most secret chords,
And made the heart of him a harp to smite--
Where are they? Where that old man lorn of sight,
The king of song among these laurelled lords?
But where are all the ancient singing-spheres
That burst through chaos like the summer's breath
Through ice-bound seas where never seaman steers?
Burnt out. Gone down. No star remembereth
These stars and seers well-silenced through the years--
The songless years of everlasting death.
poem by Victor James Daley
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Holy Name Of JESUS
so many stories that have been told
so many stories that never grow old
born in a manger in bethlehem
born our savior from that begining to the end
worshipped by kings and the poor alike
with a heart so pure, and cleaner than the brightest day.
but was destined to be taken away.
our lord had given this child to joseph and mary
and all the angels adorned the sky
for he was born the king on high.
he was destined to rule the world
and to touch the hearts of all mankind
from presidents, to kings, to you and i.
raised as a carpenter to turn wood into a wonder to behold.
but his true gift was yet to unfold
preaching the lords word to anyone who would hear
that with faith in god-they had nothing to fear.
he was not a prophet, nor a king
did not have wealth or anything
yet the most mightiest rulers had fear in their hearts.
that his words were just the start.
the start of things that was foretold
by the prophets and the readers of stars.
that a king was born this day and that
nations would bow to him and praise his name.
nations had heard of his miraculos plights
and to the blind he gave sight.
how he healed lepers and the mentally ill
this was all of his lords will.
how he cured the sick and lame
and how people spoke highly of his name.
they could not let this continue to be
betrayal was the only key.
bought by gold-he was taken away.
fear built up in the hearts of man
they would not lend a helping hand.
given a choice of which should live
they chose barrabbas to be set free.
this was the fullfillment of his destiny.
to be crucified so that man could live
and through his death wipe away mortal sin.
as you notice i did not put his name in this story
for he is above us in all his glory.
HOLY JESUS IS HIS NAME-and in his house
of prayer-we praise the same.
poem by Louis Rams
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