A poor man's lot
There besides the trunk of a leafless tree
Lies a human figure in beastly nudity.
It's breathing yet; it's not dead
But no one bothers, for them it is dead
It's dusty day, it's scorching hot
And this misery is poor man's lot.
Related quotes
Marula tree trunk
Strong winds blow against the Marula tree trunk,
They come with miscellaneous objects,
Light and heavy,
And use them to break the Marula tree trunk,
But nothing happens to the Marula tree trunk,
Light and heavy rains come,
The Marula tree smiles,
For the plentiful rain water will make
It stronger and taller,
Animals come and sleep under and on top
Of the Marula tree,
Lean and rub their itching bodies
Against the Marula tree trunk,
Relieve themselves against it,
But nothing happens to the Marula tree trunk,
The human race use the Marula tree for shade
Against the merciless summer heat of the Limpopo sun,
And eat or make beer with Marula,
But, alas! One vicious human being returned,
And chopped it,
Off goes the faithless Marula tree trunk,
To be scorched by the everlasting home burning fires.
poem by Niki Nicholas Nkuna
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Hung Me
It's dead, it'd dead you killed it all
you fucked me over, you watched me fall
the life you sucked right out of me
dead you hung me from tree.
My blood spills out onto the ground
it screams, it cries without a sound
there is no victory here for me
dead you hung me from a tree.
You can run but you can't hide
you'll try to say it's suicide
torn apart for all to see
dead you hung me from a tree.
I'll prove to you your world is wrong
your power has gone on way to long
watch my body swing so free
dead you hung me from a tree.
Free from you I find my peace
in a grave that's six feet deep
the cage unlocked, I found the key
dead you hung me from a tree.
poem by CJA Anderson
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The City Dead-House
BY the City Dead-House, by the gate,
As idly sauntering, wending my way from the clangor,
I curious pause--for lo! an outcast form, a poor dead prostitute
brought;
Her corpse they deposit unclaim'd--it lies on the damp brick
pavement;
The divine woman, her body--I see the Body--I look on it alone,
That house once full of passion and beauty--all else I notice not;
Nor stillness so cold, nor running water from faucet, nor odors
morbific impress me;
But the house alone--that wondrous house--that delicate fair house--
that ruin!
That immortal house, more than all the rows of dwellings ever built!
Or white-domed Capitol itself, with majestic figure surmounted--or
all the old high-spired cathedrals; 10
That little house alone, more than them all--poor, desperate house!
Fair, fearful wreck! tenement of a Soul! itself a Soul!
Unclaim'd, avoided house! take one breath from my tremulous lips;
Take one tear, dropt aside as I go, for thought of you,
Dead house of love! house of madness and sin, crumbled! crush'd!
House of life--erewhile talking and laughing--but ah, poor house!
dead, even then;
Months, years, an echoing, garnish'd house--but dead, dead, dead.
poem by Walt Whitman
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We Cannot Save The Dead
WE CANNOT SAVE THE DEAD
We cannot save the dead,
Though we perfect our forms of remembrance-
The dead are the dead forever dead-
And we will too one day be among them
Dead forever dead-
Despite the way those left behind strive to remember.
Dead forever dead-
Unless God decide
In some way we cannot understand
That the individual human being
Is as infinitely precious
As those who love them here
know them to be.
-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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All Dead, All Dead
Memories, my memories
How long can you stay
To haunt my days
She came without a farthing
A babe without a name
So much ado about nothing
Is what shed try to say
So much ado my lover
So many games we played
Through every fleeted summer
Through every precious day
All dead all dead
All the dreams we had
And I wonder why I still live on
All dead all dead
And alone Im spared
My sweeter half instead
All dead
And gone
All dead...
All dead all dead
At the rainbows end
And still I hear her own sweet song
All dead all dead
Take me back again
You know my little friends
All dead
And gone
All dead and gone
Her ways are always with me
I wander all the while
But please you must forgive me
I am old but still a child
All dead all dead
But I should not grieve
In time it comes to everyone
All dead all dead
But in hope I breathe
Of course I dont believe
Youre dead
And gone
All dead
And gone
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soror Tua
For the statue of Lorenzetti, in the Venice Exhibition, 1887, representing a chained and recumbent figure larger than life; who, if she broke the silence of her misery, might speak thus:--
Ye that pass by, come near and look on me;
I am despised, rejected and out-thrust;
My garments are acquainted with the dust,
My soul is bosom-mate of misery.
Come near and look upon me, sons of men.
Would I were dead; yea, peace is with the dead,
The dead are happy, having no desire.
I rise and fall, and rise and fall again,
Something is in me, famishing for bread,
Baffled and unappeasable as fire.
Woe, woe is me, I tire and may not tire!
Eternal strength in weariness is mine.
Raise me, I call. Come nearer, I am thine.
What? Knowest thou not thy sister? I am she.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Song from Aella
O SING unto my roundelay,
O drop the briny tear with me;
Dance no more at holyday,
Like a running river be:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Black his cryne as the winter night,
White his rode as the summer snow,
Red his face as the morning light,
Cole he lies in the grave below:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Sweet his tongue as the throstle's note,
Quick in dance as thought can be,
Deft his tabor, cudgel stout;
O he lies by the willow-tree!
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Hark! the raven flaps his wing
In the brier'd dell below;
Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing
To the nightmares, as they go:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
See! the white moon shines on high;
Whiter is my true-love's shroud:
Whiter than the morning sky,
Whiter than the evening cloud:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Here upon my true-love's grave
Shall the barren flowers be laid;
Not one holy saint to save
All the coldness of a maid:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
With my hands I'll dent the briers
Round his holy corse to gre:
Ouph and fairy, light your fires,
Here my body still shall be:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Come, with acorn-cup and thorn,
Drain my heartès blood away;
Life and all its good I scorn,
Dance by night, or feast by day:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
poem by Thomas Chatterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Beneath This Breathing Tree
Come my friend,
join me beneath this breathing tree,
and sit on the crispy grass,
smother yourself with its scene,
full of emotion and laden with wisdom,
Be ease my friend,
each worry smeared your face with wrinkles,
alas, the city neon still blind you with lies,
now that you with me under this tree,
throw all your stress and be free,
Don't worry my friend,
all the unsolved hectic of your life,
are fugitive running in its own prison,
never to be free, never to be captured,
but you my friend are their warden,
taking of a day off sitting beside me,
under this breathing tree,
Smile my friend,
under this tree there are rules to be obey,
no worry, no lies, no reality,
relax and then you will see,
it's just me,
and this breathing tree..
poem by Syafiq Syahmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pappepee
Pappepee is a bumble bee
who wants to have a honey tree
why? he simply is a lazy bee!
he flew over the sea
just to find a honey tree
all it can be is the tree to Pappepee.
Pappepee found the tree
the honey tree, the honey tree
now dead tired, he did fall free
and this is what the ants did see
so they all went to Pappepee
devoured him under the honey tree
poor Pappepee, poor Pappepee
poem by Estrellita Dedel
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Dead And Broken
Too many things I've never spoken
I'm not feeling fine
I never told you what to do
I never made you a promise that you could hold me to
That'll be the day you see me crying
Everyday, I still say you're dead and broken
Everyday, I still say you're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
How many different faces can you show me?
How many times can you be right?
Another world of fantasy
Another reason for dramatizing everything
Taking it all in just one more time
I'm dying
Everyday, I still say you're dead and broken
Everyday, I still say you're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
Sorry to see that you're underestimated lately
I'd rather be dead and broken than living in your grace
Everyday, I still say you're dead and broken
Everyday, I still say you're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
song performed by by Godsmack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dream Lies Dead
A dream lies dead here. May you softly go
Before this place, and turn away your eyes,
Nor seek to know the look of that which dies
Importuning Life for life. Walk not in woe,
But, for a little, let your step be slow.
And, of your mercy, be not sweetly wise
With words of hope and Spring and tenderer skies.
A dream lies dead; and this all mourners know:
Whenever one drifted petal leaves the tree-
Though white of bloom as it had been before
And proudly waitful of fecundity-
One little loveliness can be no more;
And so must Beauty bow her imperfect head
Because a dream has joined the wistful dead!
poem by Dorothy Parker
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The living And The Dead
As the wind blows
Through the spirits
Of the dead
We feel the shivers
Upon our spines
As our souls intertwine
Like ivy through a loop fence
We know we are alive
But could soon be dead
As breathing
Is the only thing
That divides
The living and the dead
poem by Dave Alan Walker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Madness of Deforestation
Natures Majestic Trees still, mighty,
Clawed feet grips mother earth deep,
Together holding ground as their own,
Reaching tall breathing out for others life to keep,
Vying for canopy rights, claiming the high blue sky.
Morning sunshine paints its mascara tints,
Shading green, lighting brown glinting green,
A pleasure to see the sea of leafy glints,
Amongst this growing life stands a dead giant
Like a floundering sailing ship in the cruel sea
Now a wonderful perch for the crows choir singing
“NO TREES NO ME, NO TREES NO THEE, ”
Stark dead arms reach out leafless, fingers pointing
Death comes slow to the giant that held the earth together.
Crows cawing out their signature song piercing the silence,
With their timeless silhouettes of black feather.
“Look what do you see besides this dead tree,
Caw caw, caw caw caw!
Uproot them are all for a mirrored vision of thee,
You cannot play with Mother Nature’s law.
After dearth there is no earth!
poem by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Graveyard Ghost
There was a graveyard by my house,
I saw a ghost while sleeping on the couch.
See I had just sprained my ankle,
and was upstairs,
I slept in the basement,
usually but my muscles I did tear.
So one night I woke up to see
what was hovering close to me.
A figure was at the foot of my bed,
it was a figure that I would soon dread,
Ghost whose body was long since dead.
I told him telepathically,
to get away and please do leave.
He put on the sweater that was at my feet,
I felt better and went back to sleep.
Now one month later I did see,
another figure outside by the tree.
He was waiting at the corner for a bus,
I thought was a human I did trust.
When I drove up to the corner
he had disappeared,
The bus was still coming,
it still wasn’t near.
Another ghost comes to see if I’m o.k,
that’s what my friend did say.
No harm from the ghosts across the street,
they keep to themselves unless you
were in pain like me.
Written on Feb.21,2011 by Christina Sunrise
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fake Messiah
Hipotetic ceremony for a dead human
King of lies, king of doves, impaled
King of Jews!
Fake messiah!
I can see the tears coming for Kranion!
Fallen by the cross, stained by the blood!
Fake messiah!
I laugh in your face!
I spit on your words!
DEAD!... savior or what?
DEAD!... savior or what?
Fake messiah!
Hipotetic ceremony for a dead human
King of lies, king of doves, impaled
King of Jews!
Fake messiah!
song performed by by Undercroft
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Neglect not meditation
Do exercise; Branches are strong.
Do hatha yoga; Trunk is strong.
Do breathing; Root is strong.
Branch-less, trunk-less,
By root alone too can live a tree.
11.07.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Dead Leaf
between these two shores
i float like a dead leaf
am not dead either..
if i was i will not feel the pain
budded flowered and became a fruit
on one shore
eaten and as a bare stray seed laid
at the other shore
as a seed i did germinate
the mother root grew into a tree
an off spring flower and fruit came by
all along as a seed i thought i was the tree itself
I NEVER THOUGHT I WILL LOOSE
MY IDENTITY AS A SEED
CAN A TREE SHOW ITS SEED
EVEN IF IT WANTS TO
ALL ALONG...
I thought i was the tree itself
may be i was a part of each part
the stem to hold, the leaf to nourish
till fate wind blew me down as a dead leaf
today as a dead leaf i float
wanting a living from one shore
wanting relationship from the other
as a dead leaf i float..am not dead with pain
ALL ALONG....
I DID THINK I WAS THE TREE ITSELF
BEING JUST A SEED
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Say 'I'd Rather Be Dead Than Poor
SOME SAY 'I'D RATHER BE DEAD THAN POOR ''
Some Say 'I'd rather be dead than poor'
Others, 'Poor than dead',
I am in the meantime working on and being worked on
for both-
The day will come
although it will be regrettably much longer than a day
when I shall have small pleasure in them-
Poorer and poorer
weaker and weaker
I grow older and older
How long I do not know
How much my meek efforts will delay it
if at all-
I do not know-
I do not know
But the time is coming
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: Nature Heals Itself
Just when I thought the tree was surely dead,
New leaves began to sprout up once again;
And soon, it wore a green crown on its head;
It had been resurrected by the rain!
Dumb-founded, astonished, perplexed I stood!
The tree that was deemed dead now was alive;
A canopy of green covered the wood,
And made me happy for the tree was live!
What a remarkable feat of Nature!
Impossible a task, it had performed;
Never underestimate her stature;
If left to man, the tree would have been harmed.
Thou art thine own healer, Nature Mother!
Can a human do than thee much better?
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Graveyard Ghost
There was a graveyard by my house,
I saw a ghost while sleeping on the couch.
See I had just sprained my ankle,
and was upstairs,
I slept in the basement,
usually but my muscles I did tear.
So one night I woke up to see
what was hovering close to me.
A figure was at the foot of my bed,
it was a figure that I would soon dread,
Ghost whose body was long since dead.
I told him telepathically,
to get away and please do leave.
He put on the sweater that was at my feet,
I felt better and went back to sleep.
Now one month later I did see,
another figure outside by the tree.
He was waiting at the corner for a bus,
I thought was a human I did trust.
When I drove up to the corner
he had disappeared,
The bus was still coming,
it still wasn’t near.
Another ghost comes to see if I’m o.k,
that’s what my friend did say.
No harm from the ghosts across the street,
they keep to themselves unless you
were in pain like me.
Written on Feb.21,2011 by Christina Sunrise
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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