October
October is the treasurer of the year,
And all the months pay bounty to her store;
The fields and orchards still their tribute bear,
And fill her brimming coffers more and more.
But she, with youthful lavishness,
Spends all her wealth in gaudy dress,
And decks herself in garments bold
Of scarlet, purple, red, and gold.
She heedeth not how swift the hours fly,
But smiles and sings her happy life along;
She only sees above a shining sky;
She only hears the breezes' voice in song.
Her garments trail the woodlands through,
And gather pearls of early dew
That sparkle, till the roguish Sun
Creeps up and steals them every one.
But what cares she that jewels should be lost,
When all of Nature's bounteous wealth is hers?
Though princely fortunes may have been their cost,
Not one regret her calm demeanor stirs.
Whole-hearted, happy, careless, free,
She lives her life out joyously,
Nor cares when Frost stalks o'er her way
And turns her auburn locks to gray.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Forms of Wealth
To money is attributed wealth
But the open truth of wealth
Is, It is not the only kind of wealth—
There are also other forms of wealth!
Good health is the best form of wealth
Forging rich links in relationships is wealth
Spontaneous love for all life forms is wealth
To have enthusiasm in life is wealth.
Acquiring life-long learning is wealth
Experience and wisdom in life is wealth
Meeting new people is also wealth
Visiting new places too is authentic wealth.
The quest to explore something is wealth
To have a positive mind-set is wealth
Existence of deep internal peace is wealth
Early morning waking up with joy is wealth.
Possessing high self-respect is wealth
Having strong spiritual connection is wealth
There exist so many types of wealth
Constitute all these and you're with full wealth!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Calendar of Sonnets: October
The month of carnival of all the year,
When Nature lets the wild earth go its way,
And spend whole seasons on a single day.
The spring-time holds her white and purple dear;
October, lavish, flaunts them far and near;
The summer charily her reds doth lay
Like jewels on her costliest array;
October, scornful, burns them on a bier.
The winter hoards his pearls of frost in sign
Of kingdom: whiter pearls than winter knew,
Oar empress wore, in Egypt's ancient line,
October, feasting 'neath her dome of blue,
Drinks at a single draught, slow filtered through
Sunshiny air, as in a tingling wine!
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I'm Just So Sorry But No One Cares About You(Revised In Line Form)
No one cares.
I'm just so sorry but no one cares about you.
No reason to get upset.
Do your own thing as you always do.
Let the time fade.
Follow the suns escape.
Take me somewhere, anywhere but here.
Like a ghost I just want to disappear.
It removes all fear.
Preparing for another sacrifice.
Such is life.
No one cares.
I'm just so sorry, but no one cares about you.
Marching to my own rhythm.
Lead or follow.
Where do you go when the heart becomes so hollow?
How do you fill the void?
Are you feeling a little paranoid?
Trust no one.
All because no one cares.
I'm just so sorry, but no cares about you.
All alone,
Naked and full of shame.
Who's really to blame?
Do you admit the fault as your own?
Or do you mention someones name and complain?
Are you insane?
Completely mad.
A mad hatter off his rocker just a little bit.
All because no one cares.
I'm just so sorry but no one cares about you.
Oh about you.
It's always about you.
No such thing as a selfless act.
This is a fact.
Nothing for free.
This is a favor that can be later be redeemed! ! !
All because no one cares,
I'm just so sorry but no one cares about you.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Childhood Memories
Rays of light flow through the glass,
Flittering memories of the past.
Of happy times and playful things,
like a baby bird spreading its wings.
Flying through the sunlit air,
without worries without cares.
Its simple nature so soft and calm,
Beckons everyone like a charm.
A little fox running through the trees,
fields of flowers and their bees.
So close to heart and yet so far,
A child's life is like a shining star.
New Year 2012, a Christian Message
Though born in dark hours, New Year shall be bright,
As Jesus Christ is Truth and Way and Light;
Don’t worry for today’s worries are much;
Just pray to God to give the soothing touch!
The Almighty has plans to bless New Year;
Just live your life soul-wise and loving dear;
If thoughts be cleaner, sins be lesser, Man,
Then change your life for better, God’s grace can!
God gave some strife in Old Year for our good;
His Word’s enough for earthly livelihood;
The God of love will bless you immensely,
If you fix heart’s gaze to eternity!
God is the Master of the universe;
He is sole Lord; not wealth or money-purse;
To God, all things are possible with ease;
His only Son brought joy to man and peace!
Take up your cross in life and follow Christ;
You will be sin-free, not satan-enticed;
Aim for treasures in heaven that’s priceless;
Your earthly bliss shall grow to be boundless!
So, live a life in New Year as God wants;
Say thanks and praise the Lord by hymns and chants;
God cares for all giving both sun and rain;
Spend time in prayer more – a boon, not bane!
Let good men lead lives better than they must;
God undoes rods and frees those hearts accursed;
Have trust in Him who loved you when He made;
Your earthly good deeds will bear fruits, not fade!
‘Happy New Year,2012! ’
Fondly dedicated to my family, relatives and friends
Copyright by Dr John Celes 01-01-12
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For An Autumn festival
The Persian's flowery gifts, the shrine
Of fruitful Ceres, charm no more;
The woven wreaths of oak and pine
Are dust along the Isthmian shore.
But beauty hath its homage still,
And nature holds us still in debt;
And woman's grace and household skill,
And manhood's toil, are honored yet.
And we, to-day, amidst our flowers
And fruits, have come to own again
The blessings of the summer hours,
The early and the latter rain;
To see our Father's hand once more
Reverse for us the plenteous horn
Of autumn, filled and running o'er
With fruit, and flower, and golden corn!
Once more the liberal year laughs out
O'er richer stores than gems or gold;
Once more with harvest-song and shout
Is Nature's bloodless triumph told.
Our common mother rests and sings,
Like Ruth, among her garnered sheaves;
Her lap is full of goodly things,
Her brow is bright with autumn leaves.
Oh, favors every year made new!
Oh, gifts with rain and sunshine sent
The bounty overruns our due,
The fulness shames our discontent.
We shut our eyes, the flowers bloom on;
We murmur, but the corn-ears fill,
We choose the shadow, but the sun
That casts it shines behind us still.
God gives us with our rugged soil
The power to make it Eden-fair,
And richer fruits to crown our toil
Than summer-wedded islands bear.
Who murmurs at his lot to-day?
Who scorns his native fruit and bloom?
Or sighs for dainties far away,
Beside the bounteous board of home?
Thank Heaven, instead, that Freedom's arm
Can change a rocky soil to gold,--
That brave and generous lives can warm
A clime with northern ices cold.
And let these altars, wreathed with flowers
And piled with fruits, awake again
Thanksgivings for the golden hours,
The early and the latter rain!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Song Of Keats
'TIS a tarnished book and old,
Edges frayed and covers green!
But, between the covers, gold —
Gold and jewels in between.
And this written (see, O see!
How old Time has made it dim)
'For one song Keats gave to me
I kneel down and worship him.'
He who wrote these lines is dust;
All of him is passed away;
Some hand closed his eyes, I trust,
Drew the blind to darken day.
Did lips kiss him at the end,
Love-lips tremulous yet brave?
Had he mistress, child, or friend
To sow green grass upon his grave?
Nay, we know not — it is long
Since he tired of Life's deceits,
Closed his ears to sigh and song,
Parted with this book, JOHN KEATS.
Year by year the Poet thrives;
Summer smiles and winter weeps;
La Belle Dame Sans Merci lives,
But a heart that loved her sleeps.
Who would woeful go to miss
Roses red in thorns arrayed,
When he might with surer bliss
Love a milkwhite Devon maid?
Beauty kindles man's desire,
Beauty dwindles, growing faint;
But the girls who never tire
Are the girls that poets paint.
When the moon has taken wings
And the twilight hour is come,
Grey the woods, and no bird sings:
Grey the world beyond, and dumb:
Neither light is there nor breeze,
Rose to redden, thorn to pain;
Till, look! look! Among the trees
A sudden bird! a scarlet stain!
So he tired of Fate's defeats,
Life's dead trees and woodlands grim,
Till sudden-sweet a song of Keats
One magic moment gave to him.
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: Man is Foolish?
How foolish truly man can sometimes be!
Trying to search for life in stellar Space;
When things are there on earth in aplenty;
Man's quest for wealth elsewhere is in fast pace.
Believing machines that he has devised;
Relying on Science, much more than on, God;
Doing things destructive, uncivilised;
Man cares for earthly acclaim and award.
0 how he wastes his energy and time!
And how he wastes hard-earned wealth in research!
He forgets that his soul must be sublime;
Spiritual life and God are left in lurch.
This is how man has been foolish for long;
And sings by heart a discontented song.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lakshmi in her silken veil
Lakshmi, in her silken veil
of modesty, walks unrecognised,
free as birds are free, around our world…
veiled in stillness; her lovely arms
bestowing, secretly, invisibly
her wealth;
her step so light, her being so, so still…
she passes you every day;
has never forgotten you;
so if you think she has neglected you –
consider, instead, her reasons:
she may be holding back to teach
(do you hear her laugh so lightly?)
pure grace, pure gratitude,
tomorrow, or the next day…
humility, she teaches, is the greatest wealth..
so disguised, she walks so freely through our life:
she loves to walk in markets, and the scents
and colours, tastes, of her wealth;
she loves to walk in fields, in Spring,
her arms as gentle, careful, generous,
as a sower casts the seed;
she walks in hospitals, loving care
distributed without a holding back;
she walks in schools, sits with the pupils,
bathing in the wealth of knowledge
that flows from spring to river to the ocean;
sometimes watches hand in hand
with her sister Saraswati;
she loves princes and their consorts
decked with jewels that all can wonder at;
she does not like dark treasure hoards
or locks, or keys; or those who think
her wealth is somehow, theirs…
and where she walks, a trail of golden dust
dances in the air; if you do not see her,
go to the temple where she loves to rest
among her own; for if you thank her there,
you’ll see her everywhere; say nothing,
smile; share her modesty, her generosity,
that only her own devotees understand:
those who love her wealth, but never for themselves…
this, this, is her beauty.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Happy Human Being
Happy's the man, woman who…
Leads life on earth as per God's will;
Heeds to his/her conscience all life;
Relies not on own strength, skills, will;
Is satisfied with what God gives.
Happy's the man, woman who…
Loves the work that's assigned on earth;
Puts his/her heart and soul in it;
Serves God by serving fellowmen;
Toils to turn earth, a paradise!
Happy's the man, woman who…
Selflessly obeys Providence;
Cares for others more than oneself;
Accrues wealth heavenly on earth;
Always walks in the road to heaven.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Scenes In London III - The Savoyard In Grosvenor Square
HE stands within the silent square,
That square of state, of gloom;
A heavy weight is on the air,
Which hangs as o'er a tomb.
It is a tomb which wealth and rank
Have built themselves around—
The general sympathies have shrank
Like flowers on high dry ground.
None heed the wandering boy who sings,
An orphan though so young;
None think how far the singer brings
The songs which he has sung.
None cheer him with a kindly look,
None with a kindly word;
The singer's little pride must brook
To be unpraised, unheard.
At home their sweet bird he was styled,
And oft, when days were long,
His mother called her favourite child
To sing her favourite song.
He wanders now through weary streets,
Till cheek and eye are dim;
How little sympathy he meets,
Sudden his dark brown cheek grows bright
His dark eyes fill with glee,
Covered with blossoms snowy-white,
He sees an orange tree.
No more the toil-worn face is pale,
Nor faltering step is sad;
He sees his distant native vale,
He sees it, and is glad.
He sees the squirrel climb the pine,
The doves fly through the dell,
The purple clusters of the vine;
He hears the vesper-bell.
His heart is full of hope and home,
Toil, travel, are no more;
And he has happy hours to come
Beside his father's door.
Oh, charm of natural influence!
But for thy lovely ties,
Never might the world-wearied sense
Above the present rise.
Blessed be thy magic every where,
Oh Nature, gentle mother;
How kindlier is for us thy care,
Than ours is for each other.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Kilmore
Kilmore cares not who comes nigh.
But, with a calm, incurious eye,
She sees the swift cars speeding by,
Then turns again to labor.
She is content to plod along.
With now a sigh, when things go wrong,
And now a smile and now a song
Or gossip with a neighbor.
Her mind dwells often in the past,
The roaring days that could not last
When men might travel not so fast,
And all the world was bigger.
She saw the coaches clatter down
To pause at her important town
With loud-voiced venturers strong and brown,
And many a bearded digger.
She saw the eager traffic flow
Upon the road to Bendigo,
With talk of many a golden show,
Of finds and fields exciting.
But wisely she contrived to hold
A treasure greater far than gold,
Where her rich pasture lands unfold
A scene far more inviting.
She smiles to dream of those old days
Of hearty men and hectic ways
When, maddened by the golden craze,
Men sought their fortunes blindly.
But she, who chose the better part
Of patient toil and simple art,
Lives on, content of mind and heart,
And generous and kindly.
So, wealthy now, she sits at ease
In this kind land of fields and trees,
Ignoring all our flippancies
And modern fads and crazes.
And, where old buildings, tumbling down,
Leave scars about her ancient town,
The hasty mock her homely gown;
The wise man waits and praises.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When The Last Petal Falls
the cloud turns pale
when the last petal falls
the sun signed out
darkness becomes a blanket
to bury
the dead
scarlet then gray
the wind from the sea
sings the song of the conch
my ear hears the saddest song
about another love
unrequited
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Happy Trails
Some trails are happy ones
Others are blue
It's the way you ride the trail that counts
Here's a happy one for you
Happy trails to you
Until we meet again
Happy trails to you
Keep smiling until then
Who cares about the clouds when we're together
Just sing a song and bring that sunny weather
Happy trails to you
Til we meet again
Who cares about the clouds when we're together
Just sing a song and bring that sunny weather
Happy trails to you
Til we meet again
Til we meet again
song performed by by Nickel Creek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
To Be Happy
To be happy
Is to be happy with oneself.
To be happy
Is to be free with your thoughts and aspirations.
To be happy with oneself
Is to have that inner peace of mind acceptable to change,
Being able to play your part in life's forever changing game.
To be sad with life
Is to be discourage with life.
Do not be discouraged
Be encouraged
To have no cares no worries.
So be happy
Life is a colorful growing tree
Which leaves change colors everyday.
Find your color and grow your tree
To be all you can be.
poem by Andreal Petric Huffman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Year Of The Dragon 2012
May Dragon's year brings
Many good tides and blessing,
Many good lucks and health,
And many good fortunes.
May your life fill with good liveliness,
And spiritual mind.
The year may comes with challenges,
And hope you can face them.
May you have many good times,
Happiness, joys, and
Plenty of fun
And laughter.
May your family enjoys,
Good prosperity,
Goodness of life, and
Sweetness of life.
Be prepare for the raining days,
Prepare our mind and body to face them.
Be happy when face difficult problems,
Ask God’s blessing and say prayers.
I pray that you always,
Are healthy and happy.
Be cheerful and exciting,
About what the year may bring.
Be positive and be glad,
Be thankful and
Give gratitude to God and family
That life is wonderful and beautiful.
May Dragon's year gives you,
The best of prosperous things and joys.
Take a step at a time,
You will take the year in no time.
Happy Dragon's Year,
Happy Wonderful Year,
Happy New You,
Happy New Year.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why Live? Why Care? - 0781 - Initial Verion
Life for me's a blossom spray,
or brooch upon a happy heart
which sparkles when flirtations start,
whose fire can never fade away.
Life's a magic mantle, ray
that song, sadness may impart,
a poem easing pain and smart,
a coloured coat that's never grey.
Life offers something fresh each day.
Though sorrow sometimes friends may part
soon pains forgotten are, we chart
delight whose light pipes cares away
Why live? Why care?
just give, take, share.
Life's like a mirage - men do pray
for Heaven, yet thence daren't depart
Is Earth Hell's, Heaven's counterpart?
What dreams may follow on life's fray?
Life's a pot tu[r]ned in fine clay,
sand castle serving as rampart
'gainst Time 'til tide urns each upstart.
Who pot, who potter is, who'll say?
Life's a lass who everyday
undressed is as each p[l]ays a part,
when naked, untouched by art,
she still seeks to prolong her stay.
Why live? - Why care?
just give, take, share.
Life's like sea breezes fresh and gay
which none control, can take apart,
cake which we would bake à la carte
but which too soon's burnt anyway.
Life blooms a moment so make hay,
Time every moment steals a part,
each year upsets the applecart
'til eyes stay closed at break of day.
Life's stream swift flows from spring to bay
it waters rose and thorn, does dart
here, there, until the final fart
blows all eternity away.
Why live? - Why care?
before you leave give, share.
(10 October 1995)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
October Musings, 1866
Silent, grave, subdued, and sober,
Month beloved, my own October!
Resting in thy peaceful arms,
Seeing not, I feel thy charms-
Feel upon my withered cheek
Thy gentle breath, thy whispers meek;
Tell of Autumn's latest sheaves,
Songless woods, and falling leaves-
Nature's floral wreath despoiled;
Hueless, scentless, matted, soiled,
Fall her tresses thin and gray,
Bending to October's sway.
Summer sun with thirsty beams
Drinking dry the pools and streams:
Where thy fervid glories now,
The burning splendours of thy brow?
Veiled effulgence now is thine,
Tender radiance, half divine;
This dreamy quiet, this stilly calm,
Sheds around a soothing balm.
Hushed beneath the influence mild,
My soul is like a weanèd child-
Weaned from earth's low cares and joys,
Vain pursuits, and worthless toys.
Life's short race is nearly run,
And the goal will soon be won;
Still I bear in heart and mind
The wants and sufferings of my kind.
Sad, yet sweet, to moralise
'Neath October's solemn skies,
When the finger of decay
Points the year's declining day;
Like the hand upon the wall,
'Born to die,' inscribes on all:
Flowers decayed and earth defiled,
Where of late they bloomed and smiled;
Fields and wood's dim, bare, and gray,
In every aspect of decay,
Tell me that I too must die-
In cold decay and darkness lie,
Till He, whose name I love and trust,
Shall wake to life my sleeping dust.
poem by Janet Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Loneliness
It is colder when alone
People are warmth garments
That keeps us warm in the cold
A tree that stands alone
Is vulnerable to whirlwind
There is no life in loneliness
Loneliness is void
You are lost in loneliness
There is no identity in loneliness
Two is better than one
Three is God's completeness
A multiple of people around
Is a great blessing
Wealth is incomplete in loneliness
A rich man devoid of people
Is like an ensnared lion
Show me your people
I can tell you
The expanse of your wealth
poem by Babatunde Aremu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Life of One
The life of one is good
The life of one is bad
The life of one is glad
The life of one is sad
The life of one smiles
The life of one cries
The life of one see's the brightness of the sun
The life of one see's the dust rolling of there shoes
The life of one see's the beutifull of the night sky
The life of one see's the horror of darkness in the night
The life of one see's the beutifull in people
The life of one see's the ugly in people
The life of one is happy
The life of one is lost
The life of one is in attention
The life of one doesnt give a shit
The life of one cares for others
The life of one acts like he/she dont know you
The life of one see's the birds singing threw out the day
The life of one see's the shallows of the underworld
The life of one see's the wolrds happenings
The life of one see's the nothing at all
The life of one see's the person in you
The life of one see's the flow of nothing
The life is just life
poem by Marcos Chavez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!