Injustice is triumphant
Robes show us men as seers.
There are seers without robes.
The world sees men by robes.
Injustice is triumphant
23.12.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Robes and Bodies
Kings, juries or priests are known by their robes.
Robes, not their bodies, demand attentions.
Souls are known by bodies they occupy.
Bodies shade souls as robes shade bodies.
(15.05.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bishops Robes
Dressed in bishops robes
Terrifies me still
In bishops robes
Bastard headmaster
I am not going back
I am not going back
I am not going back
Children taught to kill, to tear themselves to bits
On playing fields
Dressed in bishops robes
I am not going back
I am not going back
I am not going back
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Bishop's Robes
Dressed in Bishop's robes
Terrifies me still
In Bishop's robes
Bastard headmaster
I'm not going back
I'm not going back
I'm not going back
Children taught to kill
To tear themselves to bits
On playing fields
Dressed in Bishop's robes
I'm not going back
I'm not going back
I'm not going back
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Identity would seem to be the garment with which one covers the nakedness of the self, in which case, it is best that the garment be loose, a little like the robes of the desert, through which one's nakedness can always be felt, and, sometimes, discerned. This trust in one's nakedness is all that gives one the power to change one's robes.
quote by James Baldwin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
My Love in Her Attire
My Loue in her Attyre doth shew her witt,
It doth so well become her:
For eu'ry season she hath dressings fitt,
For Winter, Spring, and Summer.
No Beautie shee doth misse,
When all her Robes are on:
But Beauties selfe shee is,
When all her Robes are gone.
My Love in Her Attire
My Loue in her Attyre doth shew her witt,
It doth so well become her:
For eu'ry season she hath dressings fitt,
For Winter, Spring, and Summer.
No Beautie shee doth misse,
When all her Robes are on:
But Beauties selfe shee is,
When all her Robes are gone.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Love In Her Attire
My Loue in her Attyre doth shew her witt,
It doth so well become her:
For eu'ry season she hath dressings fitt,
For Winter, Spring, and Summer.
No Beautie shee doth misse,
When all her Robes are on:
But Beauties selfe shee is,
When all her Robes are gone.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Madrigal, Davison's Poetical Rhapsody
MY Love in her attire doth show her wit,
It doth so well become her;
For every season she hath dressings fit,
For Winter, Spring, and Summer.
No beauty she doth miss
When all her robes are on:
But Beauty's self she is
When all her robes are gone.
Antony's Friend.
Bring me my robes and crown!
I must make a brave end,
Charmian, fitting the renown
Of Antony's friend.
Caesar shall find me so,
'Tired like a royal bride,
When he comes in, and the lights are low,
And I'm by Antony's side —
Wedded in Death's bright hall
Beyond the Egyptian air,
My crown and robes on me, and all
The love that made me fair.
My women! sooth to tell
Soft is the aspic's bite:
It would have pleased my Roman well
So to have said good-night.
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One puts on black robes to scare the hell out of white people, while the other puts on white robes to scare the hell out of blacks.
In The Forest
By the sacred grove, where the waters flow
We will come and go, in the forest
In the summer rain, we will meet again
We will learn the code of the ancient ones
In the forest
By the waterfall, I will hold you in my arms
We will meet again by the leafy glade
In the shade of the forest
With your long robes on, we will surely roam
By the ancient roads, I will take you home
To the forest
In the forest, in the forest
In the forest, in the forest
With your long robes on, we will surely roam
By the ancient roads, I will take you home again
To the forest
Satisfy the soul baby
Birds sing all day long of the mother lode
We can let it roll, in the forest
With your long robes on
I know where youre coming from
By the big oak tree youve gotta come and go with me
In the forest, in the forest
In the forest, in the forest
By the waterfall
I will hold you in my arms, and we will meet again
By the leafy shade, in the, in the forest
Satisfy the soul
Birds sing all day long of the mother lode
We can surely let it roll, in the forest
With your long robes on
I know where youre coming from
We will surely roam, down by the ancient roads
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Climbing West Of Lotus Flower Peak
Amongst the grandeur of Hua Shan
I climb to the Flower Peak,
and fancy I see fairies and immortals
carrying lotus in their
sacred white hands, robes flowing
they fly filling the sky with colour
as they rise to the palace of heaven,
inviting me to go to the cloud stage
and see Wei Shu-ching, guardian angel
of Hua Shan; so dreamily I go with them
riding to the sky on the back
of wild geese which call as they fly,
but when we look below at Loyang,
not so clear because of the mist,
everywhere could be seen looting
armies, which took Loyang, creating
chaos and madness with blood
flowing everywhere; like animals of prey
rebel army men made into officials
with caps and robes to match.
In The Harbour: The Four Lakes Of Madison
Four limpid lakes,--four Naiades
Or sylvan deities are these,
In flowing robes of azure dressed;
Four lovely handmaids, that uphold
Their shining mirrors, rimmed with gold,
To the fair city in the West.
By day the coursers of the sun
Drink of these waters as they run
Their swift diurnal round on high;
By night the constellations glow
Far down the hollow deeps below,
And glimmer in another sky.
Fair lakes, serene and full of light,
Fair town, arrayed in robes of white,
How visionary ye appear!
All like a floating landscape seems
In cloud-land or the land of dreams,
Bathed in a golden atmosphere!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No truth is universal
I could not find a truth
Put forth by seers and prophets
As universally acceptable
Across humans, fauna and flora.
11.06.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Doing till then
I used to believe in words and men.
And had faith in gods and spirits.
Stars and seers too had had their sway.
I have found them wrong and learnt.
Each one repeats and then learns.
30.04.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Majority is fools
Soldiers cross their swards for their kings.
Kings don’t fight for the soldiers.
People wage war for their seers.
Seers don’t fight for their people.
08.07.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To The Men Of England
Men of England, wherefore plough
For the lords who lay ye low?
Wherefore weave with toil and care
The rich robes your tyrants wear?
Wherefore feed and clothe and save,
From the cradle to the grave,
Those ungrateful drones who would
Drain your sweat -- nay, drink your blood?
Wherefore, Bees of England, forge
Many a weapon, chain, and scourge,
That these stingless drones may spoil
The forced produce of your toil?
Have ye leisure, comfort, calm,
Shelter, food, love's gentle balm?
Or what is it ye buy so dear
With your pain and with your fear?
The seed ye sow another reaps;
The wealth ye find another keeps;
The robes ye weave another wears;
The arms ye forge another bears.
Sow seed, -- but let no tyrant reap;
Find wealth, -- let no imposter heap;
Weave robes, -- let not the idle wear;
Forge arms, in your defence to bear.
Shrink to your cellars, holes, and cells;
In halls ye deck another dwells.
Why shake the chains ye wrought? Ye see
The steel ye tempered glance on ye.
With plough and spade and hoe and loom,
Trace your grave, and build your tomb,
And weave your winding-sheet, till fair
England be your sepulchre!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song To The Men Of England
I.
Men of England, wherefore plough
For the lords who lay ye low?
Wherefore weave with toil and care
The rich robes your tyrants wear?
II.
Wherefore feed and clothe and save,
From the cradle to the grave,
Those ungrateful drones who would
Drain your sweat -- nay, drink your blood?
III.
Wherefore, Bees of England, forge
Many a weapon, chain, and scourge,
That these stingless drones may spoil
The forced produce of your toil?
IV.
Have ye leisure, comfort, calm,
Shelter, food, love's gentle balm?
Or what is it ye buy so dear
With your pain and with your fear?
V.
The seed ye sow another reaps;
The wealth ye find another keeps;
The robes ye weave another wears;
The arms ye forge another bears.
VI.
Sow seed,-- but let no tyrant reap;
Find wealth,-- let no imposter heap;
Weave robes,-- let not the idle wear;
Forge arms, in your defence to bear.
VII.
Shrink to your cellars, holes, and cells;
In halls ye deck another dwells.
Why shake the chains ye wrought? Ye see
The steel ye tempered glance on ye.
VIII.
With plough and spade and hoe and loom,
Trace your grave, and build your tomb,
And weave your winding-sheet, till fair
England be your sepulchre!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
She Lay Naked
She lay naked all day and night,
As she stripped off her robes before me;
But what have you done to her? ! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lawyers' robes are lined with the obstinacy of suitors.