Related quotes: Suffering is not a suffering...

Being used to

Suffering is not a suffering
Once one is inured to it.
Beauty is no longer a beauty
Once one is inured to it.
06.10.2003

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Stress and ease do not last.

Suffering, once accustomed to, is no longer so.
Beauty, once accustomed to, is no longer so.
Both yield the contrary in due course.
18.02.2003

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The use dulls senses

Coal dust the celeries are inured to
Does not throw to them any shabbiness.
Rich food the millionaires are inured to
Would not grant them any appetite.
A cute wife one is in possession of
Would not be an object of attraction
22.06.2004

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Freshness is Beauty

Not fresh is she now to her spouse.
She is often put to the disuse,
Much to her disgust and despair.
Beauty deteriorating without use.

Fresh is still she, to other men
And hence appears a beauty
But guarded from any misuse,
Beauty decaying for want of use.

Fresh to him are other women
In whom he finds fresh beauty.
But he is fretted from straying,
Beauty suffering behind the bar.

Change of things – Beauty strives.
Change of mates – Passion lasts.
21.06.96

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beauty, Beauty

Beauty, beauty in the light. Beauty, Beauty falling through. How sweet must beauty, beauty be. Beauty, beauty how it's happy. Beauty, beauty in the sky and in the grass. Beauty, beauty in the trees. Beauty, beauty on the ground. Beauty, beauty crawling on the ground. Beauty, beauty always climbing. Beauty, beauty that we are sirrounded by.

poem by Shania K. Younce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Suffering

I heard about your happiness
And all the plans that youre involved in
Since youre gone youd be impressed
To know i, too, have been evolving
But I dont think you comprehend
Ive been suffering
Yeah, Ive been suffering
Guess Ill be suffering up around the bend
This love is a cancer in me
I can feel it advancing in me
This fire it is my light in the world
Well, I found me a new friend
Ive been suffering
Yeah, Ive been suffering
Guess Ill be suffering up around the bend
I hung around in a leather bar
They threw me on the cement
Slept all night in my plastic car
Got in an accident
I brushed by you in the supermart
And I had me a touch of whats real
It was real when you crushed me with your steel
Black clouds roll through my mind
Who says anyway these halls are sovereign?
I am a hater of the human kind
So keep away, this hearts not softening
No, I dont think that its the end of this suffering
Yeah, Ive been suffering
Ive been suffering
Ive been suffering
And Ill be suffering up around the bend

song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Emotional Storm

Seeking refuge in the surreal atmosphere
of the opera Tales of Hoffmann, my mind
imploding, falling in upon itself in violent
reaction to an overdose of politics

No comfort as yet in the safety of the library,
no intellect left - cannot reflect - a strangling
headache, got a book to cushion the leftover
splinters of my emotions, to cool the fever

Of hatred for cold political texts that reduce
me to the state of a vegetable, Jung’s tests
said this reaction is immature, everybody
must learn to get along without the lure

Of imagination and beauty; Sonia Choquette
said we should be inured to images of pain,
violence and suffering; so be it, I cannot pass
the threshold of pain caused by such studies

Tried so hard I lost my mind, feels like my
brain cannot recuperate - no synapse will
ever fire again, listening to Barcarolle over
and over, the only calming sound

In this emotional storm...

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Sonnet I: Thou art not lovelier than lilacs

Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,--no,
Nor honeysuckle; thou art not more fair
Than small white single poppies,--I can bear
Thy beauty; though I bend before thee, though
From left to right, not knowing where to go,
I turn my troubled eyes, nor here nor there
Find any refuge from thee, yet I swear
So has it been with mist,--with moonlight so.
Like him who day by day unto his draught
Of delicate poison adds him one drop more
Till he may drink unharmed the death of ten,
Even so, inured to beauty, who have quaffed
Each hour more deeply than the hour before,
I drink--and live--what has destroyed some men.

poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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The Beauty Of A Poem

The beauty of a poem
The beauty of music
The beauty of light
The beauty of life
The beauty which makes us want to live life more
The beauty which pains us inside
The beauty in longing.
The beauty we come upon by surprise
The beauty of the day and the beauty of the night
The beauty we all have inside us
The beauty we can see and feel and never explain
The beauty that lifts us up
The beauty that makes us want to live more
The beauty that makes us reach out to God
The beauty we want to thank God for
The beauty of lilacs
The beauty of autumn leaves
The beauty of the people we love
The beauty that pervades life
The beauty that turns away from us
And will not let us be a part of it
The beauty we hold on to fragilely
As a driven leaf
The beauty the beauty the beauty
Oh life oh God of goodness oh death
The beauty we can never see
And the Beauty within us all
Oh God
The Beauty in us and Beyond us all.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Sonnet 01: Thou Art Not Lovelier Than Lilacs,—No

Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,—no,
Nor honeysuckle; thou art not more fair
Than small white single poppies,—I can bear
Thy beauty; though I bend before thee, though
From left to right, not knowing where to go,
I turn my troubled eyes, nor here nor there
Find any refuge from thee, yet I swear
So has it been with mist,—with moonlight so.

Like him who day by day unto his draught
Of delicate poison adds him one drop more
Till he may drink unharmed the death of ten,
Even so, inured to beauty, who have quaffed
Each hour more deeply than the hour before,
I drink—and live—what has destroyed some men.

poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No matter how long we exist, we have our memories. Points in time which time itself cannot erase. Suffering may distort my backward glances, but even to suffering, some memories will yield nothing of ther beauty or their splendor. Rather they remain as hard as gems.

Anne Rice in Blood and Gold
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What's In Your Heart

True beauty is in the way she laughs
True beauty is in her eyes
True beauty is how she acts
True beauty is inside
True beauty is unseen
True beauty is only felt
True beauty is not mean
True beauty is herself
True beauty can't be cruel
True beauty is bare
True beauty lies within you
True beauty is always there
True Beauty can't be covered with makeup
True beauty means true love
True beauty can't be baked up
True beauty is the flight of a dove
True beauty has no flaws
For True beauty is all that matters after all

poem by Ricky Baker
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What Will I Do/ When I Can No Longer Write?

What will I do
When I can no longer write?
When I lose enthusiasm for everything?
When I am just too weak and too sick
To really think at all?
What will I do when I come to the end
And am yet still alive
Still suffering?

How will I find meaning
When I can no longer do what has given me meaning
All these years?

Will I like countless others
Go through the terrible time
Until the end,
Unable to help those near
Who suffer at my suffering-
And who will
when it is over
Know a certain relief
and the beginning
of another kind of pain?

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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