My Death, Not My End
I still brave for and long for wealth,
Though on the verge of my grave,
Since I don’t find with me my end
And see it extend in my progeny.
(30.06.2004)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Sonnet: ‘World’s Celebrities? ’
O world-famous figures, Celebrities!
What use have you been to the common-man?
Your life got spent in alluring cities;
Your selfishness tilts down the weighing-pan.
O, how much wealth need you to acquire?
And how much wealth can you spend on this earth?
And how much wealth do you utmost require?
And how much wealth can give you immense mirth?
Just think awhile, the world has such poor souls!
Half-naked silhouettes with famished frames;
Could you not put your wealth to better roles
And see the ‘Book of Life’ record your names?
Your progeny can’t sleep on money-beds!
Excessive wealth can turn them mere block-heads.
9-23-2002
poem by John Celes
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Not a morbid state
Let your progeny go unbroken;
Who knows of your connection
After two generations pass
Heirless is not a morbid state.
03.08.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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We Need Fear For Survival
Of valour on the battlefield and in other ways we hear
But only the most foolhardy one would never know of fear
We need fear for survival may they rest in peace the brave
Their reward for their bravery the cold and darkness of the grave.
We need fear for survival the very brave are dead
And little use to them 'twould seem if good things of them are said
We need a bit of fear in us in order to stay alive
Few of the brave to a ripe old age have been known to survive.
I'd rather live to a ripe old age than have died young and brave
We need a bit of fear in us for to keep cheating the grave
Why would you even wish to die though your better days are long gone
Our will to live is always strong and it keeps us keeping on.
The fear of death is a healthy fear the brave seem to die young
Though of no use to the deceased if their praises are sung
In their graves they do never hear the bugler for them play
They lay in peace forever more that's life as some might say.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Brave Face
(mccartney/macmanus)
My brave, my brave, my brave face
Ive been living in style
Unaccustomed as I am
To the luxury life
Ive been hitting the town
And it didnt hit back
Ive been doing the rounds
Unaccustomed as I am
To the time on my hands
Now I dont have to tell anybody
When Im gonna get back
Ever since you went away Ive had the sentimental inclination not to change a single thing
As I pull the sheet back on the bed I want to go bury my head in your pillow
Now that Im alone again
I cant stop breaking down again
The simplest things set me off again
Take me to that place
Where I can find my brave face
Where I can find my brave face
My brave, my brave, my brave face
Ive been living a lie
Unaccustomed as I am
To the work of a housewife
I been breaking up dirty dishes
And been throwing them away
Ever since you left I have been trying to compose a baby, would you please come home note meant for you
As I clear away another untouched tv dinner from the table I made for two
Now that Im alone again
I cant stop breaking down again
The simplest things set me off again
Take me to that place
Where I can find my brave face
Where I can find my brave face
My brave, my brave, my brave face
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Brave Face
My brave face.
Ive been living in style
Unaccustomed as I am to the luxury life.
Ive been hitting the town and it didnt hit back.
Ive been doing the rounds
Unaccustomed as I am to the time on my hands.
Now I dont have to tell anybody when Im gonna get back.
Ever since you went away Ive had this sentimental
Inclination not to change a single thing.
As I pull the sheets back on the bed I want to go bury my head
In your pillow.
Chorus:
Now that Im alone again, I cant stop breaking down again,
The simplest things set me off again
And take me to that place
Where I cant find my brave face
Where I cant find my brave face
My brave, my brave, my brave face.
Ive been living a lie
Unaccustomed as I am
To the work of a housewife,
Ive been breaking up
Dirty dishes and throwing them away.
Ever since you left I have been trying to
Compose a baby will you please come home note
Meant for you.
As I clear away another
Untouched tv dinner
From the table I laid for two.
Now that Im alone again
I cant stop breaking down again,
The simplest things set me off again
And take me to that place
Where I cant find my brave face,
Where I cant find my brave face,
My brave, my brave, my brave face.
My brave face.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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True Love
Farewell, Earl Richard,
Tender and brave;
Kneeling I kiss
The dust from thy grave.
Pray for me, Richard,
Lying alone
With hands pleading earnestly,
All in white stone.
Soon must I leave thee
This sweet summer tide;
That other is waiting
To claim his pale bride.
Soon I’ll return to thee
Hopeful and brave,
When the dead leaves
Blow over thy grave.
Then shall they find me
Close at thy head
Watching or fainting,
Sleeping or dead.
poem by Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
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Fucking years
We are a sad generation, I would say on the verge of falling, on the verge of life, on the verge of death
the ones among us who graduated, they are now regretful and full of fears
strangers overwhelmed by these fucking years
Always complaining about a world who killed us
about a journey that never started or never ended
perfectly comfortable shutting ourselves up
waiting for something better to come
Am I part of all of this? Am I still belonging to me?
All I want is to find myself again, partially new
possibly complete
My sister-in-law has three kids and a malignant cancer to beat
she is also forty and so strong and so brave
I'm ashamed of the lack of courage I see!
for noble things I'll save my tears, I let you cry these fucking years
We never know when we are ready, I mean ready to die
we just perceive that should be part of our time
but we certainly feel is too early, so many things still to accommodate
when we understand that everything has been planned yet, it's too late
Am I part of all of this? Am I still belonging to me?
All I want is to find myself again, partially new
possibly complete
'Why don't we manage a little farm in the countryside?
you know just to be closer to the earth, far from here!
coming back to true values, all around big green trees…
to wash away these fucking years'
I've thought of it too. Does this mean to run away?
Is it too dangerous changing the system from the inside?
too much involving, too much contributing...
who's going to see us dancing in the woods all alone?
sing with me 'Don't let them have their way, there is no rule we must obey'
Am I part of all of this? Am I still belonging to me?
All I want is to find myself again, partially new
possibly complete
poem by Ilaria Boffa
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Point Of Know Return
I heard the men saying something
The captains tell they pay you well
And they said they need sailing men to
Show the way and leave today
Was it you that said
How long
How long
How long
Was it you that said "How long"
They said the sea turned so dark
That you know it's time to see the sign
And they say the point
Demons guard is an ocean grave for all the brave
Was it you that said
How long
How long
How long
How long to the point of know return
Your father
He said he needs you
Your mother
She said she loves you
Your brothers
They echo the words
"How far to the point of know return"
"Well how long"
Today I found a message floating
In the sea from you to me
You wrote that when you could see it
You cried with fear the point was near
Was it you that said "How long
To the point of Know Return
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dirge OF Nelson
Toll Nelson's knell! a soul more brave
Ne'er triumphed on the green-sea wave!
Sad o'er the hero's honoured grave,
Toll Nelson's knell!
The ball of Death unerring flew;
His cheek has lost its ardent hue;
He sinks, amid his gallant crew!
Toll Nelson's knell!
Yet lift, brave chief, thy dying eyes;
Hark! loud huzzas around thee rise;
Aloft the flag of conquest flies!
The day is won!
The day is won--peace to the brave!
But whilst the joyous streamers wave,
We'll think upon the victor's grave!
Peace to the brave!
poem by William Lisle Bowles
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The Nobility of The Marriage
The marriage for convention or
Convenience,
For comfort or connection,
For passion or progeny,
For wealth or commitment,
Once performed would die-hard.
You can not rip the bond.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Scenery
Looking at the grave
At the scenery around you
Home of the brave
Sometimes they leave you like they found you
Sometimes they worship you
Sometimes they tear your houses down
Sometimes they comfort you
Sometimes they spread your life around
Nothing you can see that they wont try to give you
Land of the free where the legend will outlive you
When you earn their trust
Then you are truly in danger
Where greed and lusst have never been a stranger
Home of the brave
Thats where heroes need protection
Media image slaves live by random selection
You sell your heart, but thats not the price of freedom
Where things are useful only when you need them
Where will you go when you need to make some changes
Who will you love in a world of consstant strangers
Ill go with you if you want to take a hero home
Ill stay behind if you want to take a hero home
Looking at the grave
At the scenery around you
Home of the brave
Sometimes they leave you like they found you
Home of the brave... (6x)
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let us create wealth for me..(the investors)
Creating wealth is very simple:
If you have three pay slips,
You can buy that expensive car,
Drive through the street on par.
You can buy an apartment in down town,
Where you can find people of your kind,
Electronic gadgets are inexpensive,
And you can change them as you wish,
Fancy restaurants are too many,
Where you can spend your hard earned money,
Creating wealth is not a problem to me,
As long as people like you around me,
I am an investor with huge oil money,
He is an accomplice to steal the honey,
We are the people behind the curtain,
Creating the wealth for certain,
Keeping you as indebted as you are,
We create the wealth,
Above the ground,
Creating wealth is very simple,
If you have three pay slips.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Dating is an Unnecessary Evil
You crave for dating
to dig your grave.
With a brave heart,
you don't say, ‘No' to it.
Why you be a spoilt brat
losing your precious wealth
and the healthy mind?
Don't listen to the words of
those who tasted
the fruit of dating.
When you step into the school of sex,
With little knowledge about it,
the pleasure you get will surpass the Heavens!
It will be last longing in your memory.
Your first night should be
a night with the first man or woman.
When you enter the school,
as a skilled mechanic,
what new bliss you seek to find!
Marriage should be a union of two innocent souls
and not a pit of foul smell to fall and roll.
---------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Only A Soldier's Grave
Only a soldier's grave! Pass by,
For soldiers, like other mortals, die.
Parents had he - they are far away;
No sister weeps o'er the soldier's clay;
No brother comes, with tearful eye;
It's only a soldier's grave - pass by.
True, he was loving, and young, and brave,
Though no glowing epitaph honors his grave;
No proud recital of virtues known,
Of griefs endured, or triumphs won;
No tablet of marble, or obelisk high; -
Only a soldier's grave: - pass by.
Yet bravely he wielded his sword in fight,
And he gave his life in the cause of right!
When his hope was high, and his youthful dream
As warm as the sunlight on yonder stream;
His heart unvexed by sorrow or sigh; -
Yet, 'tis only a soldier's grave: - pass by.
Yet, we should mark it - the soldier's grave,
Some one may seek him in hope to save!
Some of the dear ones, far away,
Would bear him home to his native clay:
'Twere sad, indeed, should they wander nigh,
Find not the hillock, and pass him by.
poem by S.A. Jones
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But only a brief moment is granted to the brave one breath or two, whose wage is the long nights of the grave.
quote by Muhammad Iqbal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only A Soldier's Grave
Only a soldier's grave! Pass by,
For soldiers, like other mortals, die.
Parents he had--they are far away;
No sister weeps o'er the soldier's clay;
No brother comes, with a tearful eye:
It's only a soldier's grave--pass by.
True, he was loving, and young, and brave,
Though no glowing epitaph honors his grave;
No proud recital of virtues known,
Of griefs endured, or of triumphs won;
No tablet of marble, or obelisk high;--
Only a soldier's grave--pass by.
Yet bravely he wielded his sword in fight,
And he gave his life in the cause of right!
When his hope was high, and his youthful dream
As warm as the sunlight on yonder stream;
His heart unvexed by sorrow or sigh;--
Yet,'tis only a soldier's grave:--pass by.
Yet, should we mark it--the soldier's grave,
Some one may seek him in hope to save!
Some of the dear ones, far away,
Would bear him home to his native clay:
'Twere sad, indeed, should they wander nigh,
Find not the hillock, and pass him by.
poem by Sidney Alroy Jonas
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Shot? So Quick, So Clean an Ending?
Shot? so quick, so clean an ending?
Oh that was right, lad, that was brave:
Yours was not an ill for mending,
'Twas best to take it to the grave.
Oh you had forethought, you could reason,
And saw your road and where it led,
And early wise and brave in season
Put the pistol to your head.
Oh soon, and better so than later
After long disgrace and scorn,
You shot dead the household traitor,
The soul that should not have been born.
Right you guessed the rising morrow
And scorned to tread the mire you must:
Dust's your wages, son of sorrow,
But men may come to worse than dust.
Souls undone, undoing others,--
Long time since the tale began.
You would not live to wrong your brothers:
Oh lad, you died as fits a man.
Now to your grave shall friend and stranger
With ruth and some with envy come:
Undishonoured, clear of danger,
Clean of guilt, pass hence and home.
Turn safe to rest, no dreams, no waking;
And here, man, here's the wreath I've made:
'Tis not a gift that's worth the taking,
But wear it and it will not fade.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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Looking Out The Window With A Blue Hat On
Oh she comes on like a fog
And then she goes out like a neurotic dog
So now Im sitting her thinking all day long
Looking out the window with a blue hat on
Find me an open grave
Just push me in
Then let me up to live again
So she bought a little book
And filled it up with names she never shook
So Im just one of them thinking all day long
Looking out the window with a blue hat on
Find me a sky high cliff
Just let me try
To jump right off maybe Ill fly
Looking out the window with the blue hat on
Find me an open grave
Just push me in
Then let me up to live again
Oh she comes on like a fog
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ah, Are You Digging on My Grave?
"Ah, are you digging on my grave,
My loved one? -- planting rue?"
-- "No: yesterday he went to wed
One of the brightest wealth has bred.
'It cannot hurt her now,' he said,
'That I should not be true.'"
"Then who is digging on my grave,
My nearest dearest kin?"
-- "Ah, no: they sit and think, 'What use!
What good will planting flowers produce?
No tendance of her mound can loose
Her spirit from Death's gin.'"
"But someone digs upon my grave?
My enemy? -- prodding sly?"
-- "Nay: when she heard you had passed the Gate
That shuts on all flesh soon or late,
She thought you no more worth her hate,
And cares not where you lie.
"Then, who is digging on my grave?
Say -- since I have not guessed!"
-- "O it is I, my mistress dear,
Your little dog , who still lives near,
And much I hope my movements here
Have not disturbed your rest?"
"Ah yes! You dig upon my grave...
Why flashed it not to me
That one true heart was left behind!
What feeling do we ever find
To equal among human kind
A dog's fidelity!"
"Mistress, I dug upon your grave
To bury a bone, in case
I should be hungry near this spot
When passing on my daily trot.
I am sorry, but I quite forgot
It was your resting place."
poem by Thomas Hardy
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