To My Truely Valiant, Learned Friend; Who In His Brooke Resolv'd The Art Gladiatory Into The Mathematicks
I.
Hearke, reader! wilt be learn'd ith' warres?
A gen'rall in a gowne?
Strike a league with arts and scarres,
And snatch from each a crowne?
II.
Wouldst be a wonder? Such a one,
As should win with a looke?
A bishop in a garison,
And conquer by the booke?
III.
Take then this mathematick shield,
And henceforth by its rules
Be able to dispute ith' field,
And combate in the schooles.
IV.
Whilst peaceful learning once againe
And the souldier so concord,
As that he fights now with her penne,
And she writes with his sword.
TO THE READER.
Harke, reader, would'st be learn'd ith' warres,
A CAPTAINE in a gowne?
Strike a league with bookes and starres,
And weave of both the crowne?
Would'st be a wonder? Such a one
As would winne with a looke?
A schollar in a garrison?
And conquer by the booke?
Take then this mathematick shield,
And henceforth by its rules,
Be able to dispute ith' field,
And combate in the schooles.
Whil'st peacefull learning once agen
And th' souldier do concorde,
As that he fights now with her penne,
And she writes with his sword.
Rich. Lovelace, A. Glouces. Oxon.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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Related quotes
Nada Mas (only the poem)
Reader, your voice is the poem
you are the words; and
nothing more.
Reader, there is no poetry
unless you speak it.
Reader, there is no sound
you must find what it has to say.
Reader, seek the thought
rising from your soul.
Reader, look all about you, up and down
no one else has come this way.
Reader, there is no other poem
only you among the words of the word; and
nothing more.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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The Poet And The Reader
the poet writes his lines
they are all dead
unless the reader comes
and resurrects them
then the poem becomes alive
and begins to read upon itself
the meaning of its existence
there is a bond between the poet
and the reader
a familiarity comes into play
one says> this is what it is
the other says> i know.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Reader or writer
If you are a reader or a writer.
You should be a positive thinker.
You are more like a scientist observer.
Try to be an exact experimenter.
Nothing is too crazy to put on paper.
If you are a reader or a writer.
The reader is a wonderful dreamer.
The writer is a sincere worker.
Its lovely that both can be each other.
If you are a reader or a writer.
You should never say never.
So don't leave behind a book marker.
Make sure you have a word sharpener.
A Dittie
Behold her lockes like wiers of beaten gold,
her eies like starres that twinkle in the skie,
Her heauenly face not framd of earthly molde,
Her voice that sounds Apollos melodie,
The miracle of time, the [whole] worlds storie,
Fortunes Queen, Loues treasure, Natures glory.
No flattering hope she likes, blind Fortunes bait
nor shadowes of delight, fond fansies glasse,
Nor charmes that do inchant, false artes deceit,
nor fading ioyes, which time makes swiftly pas
But chast desires which beateth all these downe ;
A Goddesse looke is worth a Monarchs crowne.
Goddesse and Monarch of [t]his happie Ile,
vouchsafe this bow which is an huntresse part :
Your eies are arrows though they seeme to smile
which neuer glanst but gald the stateliest hart,
Strike one, strike all, for none at all can flie,
They gaze you in the face although they die.
Thank You Reader Of This Poem
THANK YOU READER OF THIS POEM
Thank you reader of this poem
Among the billions of pages
And innumerable possibilities
For giving your time
You have given
A bit of your light
To these lines.
Thank you reader of this poem
For the kindness of your Attention.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Lucasta, Going To The Wars
Tell me not (Sweet) I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
To war and arms I fly.
True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.
Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee (Dear) so much,
Lov'd I not Honour more.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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Live & Learn
Michael w. smith
Never should have tasted that forbidden fruit
Tell me why do I always do
What I dont want to do
Now, Im the only reaper of the seeds that I sow
And when I walk the field of my stubborn will
Its a hard row to hoe
Theres a price for getting smarter
So I pay what I owe
While bridges burn
Let the shadow fall behind me
I am wiser I know
We live and learn
Always living and learning
Always living and learning
Is it out of the fire, back in to the pan
Is once enough to let it all sink in-or will I do it again
A time for understanding has now come of age
So I heed the word of the counselor and the voice of the sage
Try to see the meaning
Read between every line
When pages turn
Therell be no room for explaining what has been well-defined
We live and learn
Always living and learning
Always living and learning
An engaging temptation had me doing time
cause when it starts a fire under strong desire
We are partners in crime
But hindsight is clearer
I can where Ive gone and never return
Its a new man in the mirror
Its a new freedom song to live and learn
Always living and learning
Always living and learning
song performed by by Michael W. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Lucasta. Going To the Warres.
I.
Tell me not, (sweet,) I am unkinde,
That from the nunnerie
Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde
To warre and armes I flie.
II.
True: a new Mistresse now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith imbrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.
III.
Yet this inconstancy is such,
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Lov'd I not Honour more.
poem by Richard Lovelace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sword and shield
Each being is born with a sword and shield,
One to hunt with and the other to defend with.
Each action of one springs from either of them
In sex, the sword is wooing and the shield, eluding.
05.03.2002, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A thankyou for a comment
What is a poem without a reader?
What is a reader without a heart?
What is a heart without another heart to meet it,
greet it?
What are two hearts without what they share?
What is sharing without sharing everything?
What is everything without poets?
What is a poet without a reader...
How beautiful a circle is.
How still its centre.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To My Worthy Friend Mr. Peter Lilly: On That Excellent Pict
See! what a clouded majesty, and eyes
Whose glory through their mist doth brighter rise!
See! what an humble bravery doth shine,
And griefe triumphant breaking through each line,
How it commands the face! so sweet a scorne
Never did HAPPY MISERY adorne!
So sacred a contempt, that others show
To this, (oth' height of all the wheele) below,
That mightiest monarchs by this shaded booke
May coppy out their proudest, richest looke.
Whilst the true eaglet this quick luster spies,
And by his SUN'S enlightens his owne eyes;
He cures his cares, his burthen feeles, then streight
Joyes that so lightly he can beare such weight;
Whilst either eithers passion doth borrow,
And both doe grieve the same victorious sorrow.
These, my best LILLY, with so bold a spirit
And soft a grace, as if thou didst inherit
For that time all their greatnesse, and didst draw
With those brave eyes your royal sitters saw.
Not as of old, when a rough hand did speake
A strong aspect, and a faire face, a weake;
When only a black beard cried villaine, and
By hieroglyphicks we could understand;
When chrystall typified in a white spot,
And the bright ruby was but one red blot;
Thou dost the things Orientally the same
Not only paintst its colour, but its flame:
Thou sorrow canst designe without a teare,
And with the man his very hope or feare;
So that th' amazed world shall henceforth finde
None but my LILLY ever drew a MINDE.
poem by Richard Lovelace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To My Worthy Friend Mr. Peter Lilly: On That Excellent Picture Of His Majesty And The Duke Of York, Drawne By Him At Hampton- Court
See! what a clouded majesty, and eyes
Whose glory through their mist doth brighter rise!
See! what an humble bravery doth shine,
And griefe triumphant breaking through each line,
How it commands the face! so sweet a scorne
Never did HAPPY MISERY adorne!
So sacred a contempt, that others show
To this, (oth' height of all the wheele) below,
That mightiest monarchs by this shaded booke
May coppy out their proudest, richest looke.
Whilst the true eaglet this quick luster spies,
And by his SUN'S enlightens his owne eyes;
He cures his cares, his burthen feeles, then streight
Joyes that so lightly he can beare such weight;
Whilst either eithers passion doth borrow,
And both doe grieve the same victorious sorrow.
These, my best LILLY, with so bold a spirit
And soft a grace, as if thou didst inherit
For that time all their greatnesse, and didst draw
With those brave eyes your royal sitters saw.
Not as of old, when a rough hand did speake
A strong aspect, and a faire face, a weake;
When only a black beard cried villaine, and
By hieroglyphicks we could understand;
When chrystall typified in a white spot,
And the bright ruby was but one red blot;
Thou dost the things Orientally the same
Not only paintst its colour, but its flame:
Thou sorrow canst designe without a teare,
And with the man his very hope or feare;
So that th' amazed world shall henceforth finde
None but my LILLY ever drew a MINDE.
poem by Richard Lovelace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Apology To The Reader Who Has Written Me A Message I Have Not Answered
AN APOLOGY TO THE READER WHO HAS WRITTEN A MESSAGE TO ME I HAVE NOT ANSWERED
The real apology is not this poem
It is one by one
Reader by reader
Answering each one
Who has ever written me.
It is reading all the poems of others
I do not want to say
A ‘real no’ or a ‘false yes’ to.
It is opening myself
To perhaps a true friend
To perhaps one whose writing
I see better than my own.
The real apology
Is in opening up to the poems of the many unknown others.
Will I do this
Will I give it the time
When I already am guilty
Of not using my limited time
To correct my past work?
Dear Reader,
I apologize, I do not know.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XXIX
TO HER WHO WOULD COMFORT HIM
I did not ask your pity, dear. Your zeal
I know. It cannot cure me of my woes.
And you, in your sweet happiness, who knows,
Deserve it rather I should pity feel
For what the coming years from you conceal.
I did but cry, thou dear Samaritan,
Out of my bitterness of soul. Each man
Has his own sorrow treading on his heel,
Ready to strike him, and must keep his shield
To his own back. Fate's arrows thickly fly,
And, if they strike not now, will strike at even.
And so I ask no pity. On life's field
The wounded crawl together, but their cry
Is not to one another but to Heaven.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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A very wise author once said that a writer writes for himself, and then publishes for money. I write for myself and publish just for the reader.
quote by Guillermo Cabrera Infante
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To serve the people, one must write for the ideal reader. Only for the ideal reader. And who or what is that ideal reader? God. One must imagine, One must deeply imagine that great Attention. Only so, in lonely dialog, can one reach the people.
quote by Denise Levertov
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet: What A Good Poem Does?
A good poem exits the poet’s heart,
When inspired enough, flowing with ease,
In a way emotional, right from the start;
When feelings abate, it will tend to cease.
A good poem lifts up the reader’s heart
In the same manner, the poet had felt,
With attributes right that speak of his art;
The reader’s mind, a candle-like does melt.
A good poem’s a musical fine piece,
Rhythmical too, whenever it can be;
And like nectar to honey-making bees,
Giving, feeling of immortality.
Good poems come only once in a while,
When writes the poet, from his heart in style.
poem by John Celes
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The Ballade Of The Average Reader
I try to touch the public taste,
For thus I earn my daily bread.
I try to write what folks will paste
In scrap books after I am dead.
By Public Craving I am led.
(I' sooth, a most despotic leader)
Yet, though I write for Tom and Ned,
I've never seen an average reader.
The Editor is good and chaste,
But says: (Above the public's head;
This is _too_ good; 'twill go to waste.
Write something commonplacer-
Ed.)
Write for the average reader, fed
By pre-digested near-food's feeder,
But though my high ideals have fled,
I've never _seen_ an average reader.
How many lines have been erased!
How many fancies have been shed!
How many failures might be traced
To this-this average-reader dread!
I've seen an average single bed;
I've seen an average garden-weeder;
I've seen an average cotton thread-
I've _never_ seen an average _reader_.
L'ENVOI
Most read of readers, if you've read
The works of any old succeeder,
You know that he, too, must have said:
'I've never seen an Average Reader.'
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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Every reader finds himself. The writer's work is merely a kind of optical instrument that makes it possible for the reader to discern what, without this book, he would perhaps never have seen in himself.
quote by Marcel Proust
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Without books I would not have become a vivacious reader, and if you are not a reader you are not a writer.
quote by Ken Follet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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