Sonnet: Political Greatness
Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fame,
Nor peace, nor strength, nor skill in arms or arts,
Shepherd those herds whom tyranny makes tame;
Verse echoes not one beating of their hearts,
History is but the shadow of their shame,
Art veils her glass, or from the pageant starts
As to oblivion their blind millions fleet,
Staining that Heaven with obscene imagery
Of their own likeness. What are numbers knit
By force or custom? Man who man would be,
Must rule the empire of himself; in it
Must be supreme, establishing his throne
On vanquished will, quelling the anarchy
Of hopes and fears, being himself alone.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Vast Empire And Fallen Throne.
A vast empire surrounds us
But we stand with the fallen throne and
Confounded and crestfallen we are.
Our empire of amasses; not of accumulations!
Our empire of ownership; not of master-hood!
Our empire of intelligence; not of erudition!
The throne lies down with its jewels gone,
It lies at our feet and none can pick it up.
We feel on our skull the shame of past.
Our throne of civilisation; not of progress!
Our throne of peace; not of harmony!
Our throne of diamonds; not of copper
The empire will swell and explode next
And our throne will lie buried ever.
The empire will thereafter turn into a planet of its own
And go on the orbit of might and moss and
Our throne will join the fossils down deep!
The ides of the present remain told aloud!
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Lines to the Memory of Pitt
Oh Britain! dear Isle, when the annals of story
Shall tell of the deeds that thy children have done,
When the strains of each poet shall sing of their glory,
And the triumphs their skill and their valour have won.
When the olive and palm in thy chaplet are blended,
When thy arts, and thy fame, and thy commerce increase,
When thy arms through the uttermost coasts are extended,
And thy war is triumphant, and happy thy peace;
When the ocean, whose waves like a rampart flow round thee,
Conveying thy mandates to every shore,
And the empire of nature no longer can bound thee,
And the world be the scene of thy conquests no more:
Remember the man who in sorrow and danger,
When thy glory was set, and thy spirit was low,
When thy hopes were o'erturned by the arms of the stranger,
And thy banners displayed in the halls of the foe,
Stood forth in the tempest of doubt and disaster,
Unaided, and single, the danger to brave.
Asserted thy claims, and the rights of his master,
Preserved thee to conquer, and saved thee to save.
poem by Thomas Babbington Macaulay
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The idea that Anarchy can be inaugurated by force is as fallacious as the idea that it can be sustained by force. Force cannot preserve Anarchy; neither can it bring it. In fact, one of the inevitable influences of the use of force is to postpone Anarchy. The only thing that force can ever do for us is to save us from extinction, to give us a longer lease of life in which to try to secure Anarchy by the only methods that can ever bring it. But this advantage is always purchased at immense cost, and its attainment is always attended by frightful risk. The attempt should be made only when the risk of any other course is greater.
quote by Benjamin Tucker
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Victoria Regina
A thousand years by sea and land
Our race hath served the island kings,
But not by custom's dull command
To-day with song her Empire rings:
Not all the glories of her birth,
Her armed renown and ancient throne,
Could make her less the child of earth
Or give her hopes beyond our own:
But stayed on faith more sternly proved
And pride than ours more pure and deep,
She loves the land our fathers loved
And keeps the fame our sons shall keep.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Fame
(bowie, lennon, alomar)
Fame, makes a man take things over
Fame, lets him loose, hard to swallow
Fame, puts you there, where things are hollow
Fame..
Fame, hurts your brain, just a flame
A funny tin to dip you inside
Fame..
Fame, what you like is in the limo
Fame, what you get is no tomorrow
Fame, what you need you have to borrow
Fame..
Fame, the dirty swine, its just his line
Hes only trying to drive you to crime.. (crime)
Fame..
Is it any wonder
Ill reject you first
Is it any wonder
Youre too cool to prove
Fame
A ticket for you, a ticket for me
Ive gotta get to witchitta
Fame..
Fame (rpt x23)
Whats your name?
What a game..
What a shame.. what a shame..
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perceptions - Sonnet
When life from life with sigh or strife departs,
when threescore, more, or less, existence span
with verse and chapter closed before began,
dare logic there define our petty parts?
We scramble onwards as by fits and starts
from fears is drawn the shadow of a plan
thrown up to mock perceptions ego can
conjur to calm before life's final farts
the gene game phase which plays for counterparts
from stage to stage of every V.P.N.
before in dust dissolved are all vain arts.
Few know a jot or care a fiddlestick
For ancestry whose key code makes them tick
10 March 2006
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Written For My Son
When Athens was for Arts and Arms renown'd,
Olympic Wreaths uncommon Merit crown'd.
These slight Distinctions from the Learn'd and Wise,
Convey'd eternal Honour with the Prize:
'Twas this, the gen'rous Love of Fame inspir'd,
And Grecian Breasts with noblest Ardor fir'd.
For like Rewards like Judges we implore:
Immortal Fame, with Grecian Arts, restore:
Our growing Merit with Indulgence view;
And sure you'll favour what distinguish'd you.
Leave Ignorance and Sloth to Scorn and Shame;
But crown the Worthy with immortal Fame;
And Fame, conferr'd by you, can never fail:
What Men have purchas'd, they of Right entail.
poem by Mary Barber
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Ode VII: On The Use Of Poetry
I.
Not for themselves did human kind
Contrive the parts by heaven assign'd
On life's wide scene to play:
Not Scipio's force, nor Cæsar's skill
Can conquer glory's arduous hill,
If fortune close the way.
II.
Yet still the self-depending soul,
Though last and least in fortune's roll,
His proper sphere commands;
And knows what nature's seal bestow'd,
And sees, before the throne of God,
The rank in which he stands.
III.
Who train'd by laws the future age,
Who rescu'd nations from the rage
Of partial, factious power,
My heart with distant homage views;
Content if thou, celestial Muse,
Did'st rule my natal hour.
IV.
Nor far beneath the hero's feet,
Nor from the legislator's seat
Stands far remote the bard.
Though not with public terrors crown'd,
Yet wider shall his rule be found,
More lasting his award.
V.
Lycurgus fashion'd Sparta's fame,
And Pompey to the Roman name
Gave universal sway:
Where are they?—Homer's reverend page
Holds empire to the thirtieth age,
And tongues and climes obey.
VI.
And thus when William's acts divine
No longer shall from Bourbon's line
Draw one vindictive vow;
When Sidney shall with Cato rest,
And Russel move the patriot's breast
No more than Brutus now;
VII.
Yet then shall Shakespeare's powerful art
O'er every passion, every heart,
Confirm his awful throne:
Tyrants shall bow before his laws;
And freedom's, glory's, virtue's cause,
Their dread assertor own.
poem by Mark Akenside
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Forget Not the Field
Forget not the field where they perish'd,
The truest, the last of the brave,
All gone -- and the bright hope we cherish'd
Gone with them, and quench'd in their grave!
Oh! could we from death but recover
Those hearts as they bounded before,
In the face of high heaven to fight over
That combat for freedom once more; --
Could the chain for an instant be riven
Which Tyranny flung round us then,
No, 'tis not in Man, nor in Heaven,
To let Tyranny bind it again!
But 'tis past -- and, though blazon'd in story
The name of our Victor may be,
Accurst is the march of that glory
Which treads o'er the hearts of the free.
For dearer the grave or the prison,
Illumed by one patriot name,
Than the trophies of all who have risen
On Liberty's ruins to fame.
poem by Thomas Moore
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Psalm 21
Our king is the care of Heaven.
The king, O Lord, with songs of praise,
Shall in thy strength rejoice;
And, blest with thy salvation, raise
To heav'n his cheerful voice.
Thy sure defence through nations round
Has spread his glorious name;
And his successful actions crowned
With majesty and fame.
Then let the king on God alone
For timely aid rely;
His mercy shall support the throne,
And all our wants supply.
But, righteous Lord, his stubborn foes
Shall feel thy dreadful hand;
Thy vengeful arm shall find out those
That hate his mild command.
When thou against them dost engage,
Thy just but dreadful doom
Shall, like a fiery oven's rage,
Their hopes and them consume.
Thus, Lord, thy wondrous power declare,
And thus exalt thy fame;
Whilst we glad songs of praise prepare
For thine almighty name.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Your Majesty
Your majesty, if you will
I realize that I am not worthy
Of licking the slime from your shoes
But I would that I could
Your majesty, don't you see
You're worth nothing to me
Though the world may worship you
You're simply a chauvinistic pig
Your majesty, we can tell
That you hold yourself in high opinion
You find no self faults
And you are self-centered
Your majesty, we realize
That you are blind to your own faults
And you are blind to the trials of others
You believe yourself to be the center of the Universe
Your majesty, anyone is better
Than you, in your self-possessed vanity
And the world realizes that I
Am more beautiful than you
Your majesty, none would ever
Get in line to be your queen
Because you are ruthless, selfish, vain
And none could be uglier than you
Your majesty, we all hope
That you realize the err of your ways soon
Because if you don't, we will revolt against you
And I shall be placed upon the throne over you
Your majesty, start to change
For the people around you change
And increasingly learn to hate you
So try harder to make others happy
Your majesty, instead
Of revelling in your own "beauty"
You should be striving to make the world more beautiful
Instead of making it an even uglier mess that we are left to clean up
Thank you, your majesty
poem by Gwenevere Cornwell
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Strada's Nightingale
The shepherd touch'd his reed; sweet Philomel
Essay'd, and oft essay'd to catch the strain,
And treasuring, as on her ear they fell,
The numbers, echo’d note for note again.
The peevish youth, who ne'er had foundbefore
A rival of his skill, indignant heard,
And soon (for various was his tuneful store)
In loftier tones defied the simple bird.
She dared the task, and, rising as he rose,
With all the force that passion gives inspired,
Return’d the sounds awhile, but in the close
Exhausted fell, and at his feet expired.
Thus strength, not skill prevail'd. O fatal strife,
By thee, poor songstress, playfully begun;
And, O sad victory, which cost thy life,
And he may wish that he had never won!
poem by William Cowper
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The Crown Of Empire
Free is the wind that lashes into foam
The fortress waves that gird the Sea-King’s home
And free the war-worn Flag that is our fame
That fear, nor treason, nor the Storm-God’s might,
Nor the leagued banners of the World can shame
When Britain arms for Honour and the Right.
And free the hearts that on this golden day
Bear willing witness to the Sea-King’s sway:
From world-wide realms washed by the world-wide sea
They turn, O Throne of Freedom, unto Thee.
Homeward they turn from many a lonely place,
Maker of Nations, Mother of the Race,
Homeward to Thee, where, in this solemn hour
Of mightiest Empire, Thou hast called once more
A Royal Son to wield Imperial power
And wear the crown that Saxon Alfred wore—
Sceptre and orb that a great Queen laid down,
Lustrous with wisdom, foremost in renown,
Whilst o’er them shone, all glittering gems above,
The Star of Duty and the Pearl of Love.
Europe is here, and Asia: and the West
Lifts ’mid the throng its dauntless Eagle’s crest.
Lo! They are gathered—prince and peer and lord,
And great ambassadors of mighty States,
And utmost Nations—not with naked sword,
But to do Britain honour in her gates.
The splendour of this large, historic hour,
This dazzling pageant of Imperial power,
Surrounds a King whose proudest boast shall be
The hearts that hail him Emperor of the Free.
O Sire August, within these Abbey walls
To thee the sacred dust of Britain calls
To rule the realm that shook the strength of Spain,
And struck th’ accursèd fetter from the slave—
That tore from Europe’s neck the Despot’s chain,
And, for a pledge of Freedom, o’er the wave
Has set its Flag forever—not alone—
The fairest face that ever graced a throne,
Queen of our Hearts, is with Thee as we sing:—
“An Empire’s love is their’s: God Save the King!”
Unbar your ocean-guarded gates, make wide
Your streets, Imperial City of our Pride!
Hark, with the voice of millions, rolling deep,
The world salutes thee on this Royal morn.
Strong as thine island-rock when surges sweep
Thy throne stands steadfast; round it there is born
The silent vow that prince and peasant make
Ere they go down to death for Freedom’s sake,
And, dying, know sons of their sons will be
As swift to guard the Sceptre of the Sea.
O Pillars of an Empire dwarfing Rome,
From the four corners of the world you come.
The strong Sea-Lion calls around his throne
His ancient heirs, his war-worn younger sons.
Bring Heath and Vine from hills of Southern stone.
And Myrtle, where the twining rata runs,—
Wreaths from our Empire-Garden, where, between
The purple Thistle and the Shamrock green,
The snow-white Lotus by the Maple shows,
The yellow Wattle by the English Rose.
This is a Southern Song blown oversea
From mighty States now linked in unity,—
From that far island continent that lies
Gigantic on the waters, throned, apart,
Robed with the splendour of Australian skies—
First to draw sword, when, with a single heart,
From every frontier line of Empire rose
New Britains armed to meet Britannia’s foes,
Whose voices thunder, as the joy-bells ring
Loud from ten thousand spires: “God Save the King!”
poem by George Essex Evans
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The Fame
Breaks like glass
But not in your hand
They'll shoot you down
Right where you stand
And it don't care for what you wear
Or which way you might sway
It calls you up
But not on the phone
And they will drag you from your throne
And you may laugh while you sit there
Sipping your champagne
And they all laugh at your despair
Sniffing your cocaine
I'm a man of choice in an old Rolls Royce
And I'm howling at the moon
Is my happening to deafening
For you?
For you?
It's maybe The Fame
It's walked out on your name
It's sees you crying
Never did explain
Am I the name
Blowing through you
Like a hurricane
It's a shame
It's a shame
It's a shame
It will not fall
Not from the sky
And it don't eat no humble pie
And you may have your quiet life
But I bet you don't know why
It makes you a mess
You didn't believe
You still don't know what makes me breathe
And you may laugh while sitting there
Sipping your champagne
And they all laugh at your despair
Sniffing your cocaine
I'm a man of choice in an old Rolls Royce
And I'm howling at the moon
Is this happening to deafening
For you?
For you?
It's maybe The Fame
It's walked out on your name
It's sees you crying
Never did explain
Am I the name
Blowing through you
Like a hurricane
It's a shame
It's a shame
It's a shame
It's maybe The Fame
It's walked out on your name
It's sees you crying
Never did explain
Am I the name
Blowing through you
Like a hurricane
And I've walked out on your name
It sees you cry
Up from the sky
You never did explain
Why I'm still
Blowing through you
Like a hurricane
song performed by by Oasis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fame
As recorded by david bowie
Fame, makes a man take things over.
Fame, let's him lose, hard to swallow.
Fame, puts you there where things are hollow.
Fame.
Fame,
It's not your brain, it's just a flame,
That burns your change to keep you insane.
Fame.
Fame, what you like is in the limo.
Fame, what you get is no tomorrow.
Fame, what you need you have to borrow.
Fame.
Fame,
Now it's mine, it's just his line
To bind your time it drives you to crime.
Fame.
Is it any wonder
I reject you first?
Fame, fame, fame, fame.
Is it any wonder
You are too cool to fool?
Fame.
Fame,
Bully for you,
Chilly for me,
Got to get a raincheck on pain.
Fame.
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, - fame.
What's your name?
(fame, fame)
(fame, fame)
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fame
As recorded by david bowie
Fame, makes a man take things over.
Fame, let's him lose, hard to swallow.
Fame, puts you there where things are hollow.
Fame.
Fame,
It's not your brain, it's just a flame,
That burns your change to keep you insane.
Fame.
Fame, what you like is in the limo.
Fame, what you get is no tomorrow.
Fame, what you need you have to borrow.
Fame.
Fame,
Now it's mine, it's just his line
To bind your time it drives you to crime.
Fame.
Is it any wonder
I reject you first?
Fame, fame, fame, fame.
Is it any wonder
You are too cool to fool?
Fame.
Fame,
Bully for you,
Chilly for me,
Got to get a raincheck on pain.
Fame.
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, - fame.
What's your name?
(fame, fame)
(fame, fame)
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Veils
Veils, everywhere float veils; veils long and black,
Framing white faces, oft-times young and fair,
But, like a rose touched by untimely frost,
Showing the blighting marks of sorrow's track.
Veils, veils, veils everywhere. They tell the cost
Of man-made war. They show the awful toll
Paid by the hearts of women for the crimes,
The age-old crimes by selfishness ill-named
'Justice' and 'Honour' and 'The call of Fate'-
High words men use to hide their low estate.
About the joy and beauty of this world
A long black veil is furled.
Even the face of Heaven itself seems lost
Behind a veil. It takes a fervent soul
In these tense times
To visualise a God so long defamed
By insolent lips, that send out prayers, and prate
Of God's collaboration in dark deeds,
So foul they put to shame the fiends of hell.
Yet One
does
dwell
In Secret Centres of the Universe-
The Mighty Maker; and He hears and heeds
The still small voice of soulful, selfless faith;
And He is lifting now the veil of death,
So long down-dropped between those worlds and earth.
Yea! He is giving faith a great new birth
By letting echoes from the hidden places
Where dwell our dead, fall on love's listening ear.
Hearken, and you shall hear
The messages which come from those star-spaces!
That is the reason why
God let so many die;
That the vast hordes of suffering hearts might wake
Mighty vibrations, and the silence break
Between the neighbouring worlds, and lift the veil
'Twixt life on earth, and life Beyond. All hail
To great Jehovah, Who has given life
Eternal, everlasting, after strife!
Veils, long black veils, you shall be bridal white.
Eyes, blind with tears, you shall receive your sight,
And see your dead alive in Worlds of Light.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Immortal Truth Burning Ink Written Words
civilizations burning torch domino fallen
flames back into distant dawn of antiquity
history written in cuneiform baked tablets
wedge-shaped incision cut into body tissue
organ beating epochs spear pierced surgery
planting new rulers people over ash empires
'Fire burns where fire surrenders to burning
When burning requires the fire it escapes'
flame is an immortal truth burning ink written words
flame reaps empires human history burnt in flames
anarchy conquest desolation throughout history reins
to build takes cooperative work many inspired hands
to burn destroy just one despot mad man with a torch
tyrant with absolute powers is limelight cast off stage
new rule change bides time waits to leap steal upstage
fallen are slain enslaved or skill employed at set wage
civilizations rule of law battles with beast escape cage
triumph history trumpets in new era turns a new page
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Quotation from “AFIRE ME O’MY BURNING” by Pranab K. Chakraborty.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Letter To The Same Person
Sure of Success, to You I boldly write,
Whilst Love do's ev'ry tender Line endite;
Love, who is justly President of Verse,
Which all his Servants write, or else rehearse.
Phoebus (howe'er mistaken Poets dream)
Ne'er us'd a Verse, till Love became his Theme.
To his stray'd Son, still as his Passion rose,
He rais'd his hasty Voice in clam'rous Prose:
But when in Daphne he wou'd Love inspire,
He woo'd in Verse, set to his silver Lyre.
The Trojan Prince did pow'rful Numbers join
To sing of War; but Love was the Design:
And sleeping Troy again in Flames was drest,
To light the Fires in pitying Dido's Breast.
Love without Poetry's refining Aid
Is a dull Bargain, and but coarsely made;
Nor e'er cou'd Poetry successful prove,
Or touch the Soul, but when the Sense was Love.
Oh! cou'd they both in Absence now impart
Skill to my Hand, but to describe my Heart;
Then shou'd you see impatient of your Stay
Soft Hopes contend with Fears of sad Delay;
Love in a thousand fond Endearments there,
And lively Images of You appear.
But since the Thoughts of a Poetick Mind
Will never be to Syllables confin'd;
And whilst to fix what is conceiv'd, we try,
The purer Parts evaporate and dye:
You must perform what they want force to do,
And think what your ARDELIA thinks of you.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
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It's the doing that's hard.
It's not the knowing, it's the doing that's hard.
It's the first step, not the first yard.
It's having the strength to do the right thing.
That's what makes a man a pauper or king.
Whether you sit on a throne or easy chair,
How do you act on what you know is fair.
If you act on expedient or true,
This is the measure of you.
As water takes the easy course,
Where it meets less force.
Each of us are given a voice,
Each one is given a choice.
Standing may mean standing alone,
As an honest life we hone.
In no shadow will we stand,
Small will be the member of our band.
Come let us be found,
Where truth does abound.
Where truth is found in the hearts of men,
Where truth is strength and lies must bend.
Our captain Jesus leads us on,
As the battles wage He leads our song.
I may tire and weapons blunt,
He will always be out in front.
So take the first step to do what's right,
Doing it in the Saviours might.
He has promised to show the way,
It He that knows the content of each day.