The crown and its pain
Don’t envy kings for their crown.
They had no rosy history;
Either murdered, killed in the battle,
Shot dead, feared dead by ghosts
Or slaughtered by wives’ agents,
They had no rosy history.
Don’t envy kings for their thrones.
25.04.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Rosey Won't You Please Come Home
Rosy won't you please come home?
Mama don't know where you've been.
Rosy won't you please come home?
Your room's clean and no one's in it.
Oh my Rosy, how I miss you,
You are all the world to me.
Take a look and see if you like it,
If you like it please come back.
Rosy won't you please come home?
Since you've joined the upper classes,
You don't know us anymore.
Live and let your troubles pass.
Rosy, Rosy, will you write and tell me,
If you don't want to come back?
I would sacrifice all I have
To have a happy home once more.
Rosy won't you please come home?
Two long years have passed away.
Since you tried to change your life,
Christmas wasn't quite the same.
Rosy, Rosy, got any answers?
You are miles across the sea,
And I'll bake a cake if you tell me
You are on the first plane home.
Rosy won't you please come home?
Mama don't know where you've been.
Rosy won't you please come home?
Your room's clean and no one's in it.
Oh my Rosy, how I miss you,
You are all the world to me.
Take a look and see if you like it,
If you like it please come back.
Oh Rosy, will you please come back?
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Page of my History
Some laughs some tears
This is it, its what we feared
We are going our separate ways
Things getting easier by the days
You’re now a page of my history
Many days of adventure and fun
But we both know we aren’t the one
The pain eases so very slow
But it’s for the best and we know it
You’re now a page of my history
The not knowing is the mystery
But us being together is history
We will get over the misery
Even though I miss yee
You’re now a page of my history
We gave it our best shot
But it was a game we lost
Our love is lost but never gone
We will find a place to keep it safe
You’re now a page of my history
poem by Stephanie Mcgrath
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Kingdom
Had the kings and queens of this kingdom bled?
The wild and eerie winter is upon us,
We can not witness a criminal who has been dead.
Your solution to royalty is absolutely ahead,
The summer believed me, it was absoluteness,
Had the kings and queens of this kingdom bled?
We say and did formulae of chemistry in bed,
The same post of evil as absentmindedness,
We can not witness a criminal who has been dead.
Our results bespeak in front of the led,
The exact opposite of leading is malice,
Had the kings and queens of this kingdom bled?
When does the king seek kindness from the misled?
Your happiness is special with malpractice.
We can not witness a criminal who has been dead.
The understanding I sought was hunger to be read,
A shining example of pride is in books of passiveness.
We can not witness a criminal who has been dead.
Had the kings and queens of this kingdom bled?
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rosy Wont You Please Come Home
Rosy wont you please come home?
Mama dont know where youve been.
Rosy wont you please come home?
Your rooms clean and no ones in it.
Oh my rosy, how I miss you,
You are all the world to me.
Take a look and see if you like it,
If you like it please come back.
Rosy wont you please come home?
Since youve joined the upper classes,
You dont know us anymore.
Live and let your troubles pass.
Rosy, rosy, will you write and tell me,
If you dont want to come back?
I would sacrifice all I have
To have a happy home once more.
Rosy wont you please come home?
Two long years have passed away.
Since you tried to change your life,
Christmas wasnt quite the same.
Rosy, rosy, got any answers?
You are miles across the sea,
And Ill bake a cake if you tell me
You are on the first plane home.
Rosy wont you please come home?
Mama dont know where youve been.
Rosy wont you please come home?
Your rooms clean and no ones in it.
Oh my rosy, how I miss you,
You are all the world to me.
Take a look and see if you like it,
If you like it please come back.
Oh rosy, will you please come back?
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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By Those Interested In War History
By those interested in war history war history is read
But the winners write the war history or so it is said
That is how it is and will always be
What is true to one is not to another that's how it seems to me
Of war and war heroes many stories are written and many poems to recite
And mostly of war winners that war writers stories do write
And readers believe what they want to believe
And the mothers of the war dead for their dead children grieve
In war as in life 'tis the winners who count
And the stories of losers to little amount
For the dead war heroes many a parade
And far too many films of war have been made
And 'tis mostly the winners write the war history
That is how it is and always will be.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Comely Cute Girl
Want a comely cute girl
Precious like pearl
Fair skinned milky
Body soft slim and silky
Cheeks pink and rosy
Smiling face and cozy
I want to write my love story
That will be history
History of love mystery
I do know dreams never come true
But shouldn't we look through
To find someone
Someone who is in our dream
Or the girl next door
Just try and try
Don't wait and cry
There is someone for everyone
Shashikant Nishant Sharma 'साहिल'
=====©SNS==17 June 2003==@Patna=====
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Die as rosy.
Time has capacity to rub the past.
The limping old is not known for his rosy youth
Nor the booming old for his dirty youth.
See that you die as one rosy, dirt unknown.
29.07.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Twice The Maple Blushes
O, twice the maple blushes, blushes rosy, rosy red;
She blushes in the Spring-time,
When aroused from Winter's sleep,
She finds herself all naked
And the gaping world apeep,
O, then the maple blushes, blushes rosy, rosy red.
Once again the maple blushes, blushes rosy, rosy red;
She blushes in the Autumn,
When she lays her robes aside
For the long, long sleep of Winter,
And finds naught 'neath which to hide,
O, then the maple blushes, blushes rosy, rosy red.
poem by James Edwin Campbell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dont Stop For No-one
Dont stop for no-one
And then it goes on
(repeat 3 times)
One day my father said to me
its time for you to leave,
But dont wait for me, its pre-destiny
Dont wait around for someone to believe in
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Just like moses waiting on the mountain
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Dont hang around in the babylonian gardens
You know, history dont stop for no-one
(? ) tourist attraction
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Dont stop for no-one
And then it goes on
(repeat)
Sometimes I told I must confess
To a life of tenderness
But I just repeat what he said to me:
dont close your eyes because seeing is believing
You know, history dont stop for no-one
(? ) child, fighting for a meaning
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Dont dream too long, its time to awake now
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Like sleeping lucy waiting for a kiss now
You know, history dont stop for no-one
I think you know the way its gonna go now
You know, history dont stop for no-one
From aztech kings to new york queens
And then it goes on
song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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History Stones People.
History stones people.
They stoned Moses, David and Linclon,
history did that for all to see
Marbel and cement,
that's all it leaves behind
of a long changing life.
Great heroes of time,
fall under the mercy
of the sculptor's knife.
History stones faces,
in a way that would make
ecclestias cringe.
History stones feet,
in a way that would make
piligrims cry.
History stones life
to always stay fresh,
yet, what is life without
the sins of the flesh.
All the radical kids
get stoned
and never change
or even move a muscle.
All the sword raising warriors
history stoned
without blood in their veins.
You can see all the victims
that history stoned
when you walk in the park,
they got kings
and queens
hell, they even got Gods.
They are there captive
in history's stones,
never to be again what they were;
wilting flesh and
breakable bones.
People look up at them
they are victims too.
History's stones fall far,
even on to you.
Those stoned to live
are like the ones stoned to die.
enslaved to the search
of the frozen smile.
Life is a burning bush
that doesn't get consumed.
not a dead rock
or a statue of history.
It's a fusing wind
of happinnes and misery.
An exploding volcano
of courage and fear.
It is the stem of the flower
struggling through the seasons
to stand and bloom
above the drying soil.
Life is the fighting wave
you see at sea
forgotten and denied
by the stones of history.
poem by Samuel Katz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Each is good in a way.
If elephants were killed; plants would be safe.
If cows were slaughtered; grass would be safe.
If tigers were shot dead; animals would be safe.
If men were killed; the planet would be safe.
03.11.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Liberty!
'LIBERTY?' Is that the cry, then?
We have heard it oft of yore.
Once it had, we think, a meaning;
Let us hear it now no more.
We have read what history tells us
Of its heroes, martyrs too.
Doubtless they were very splendid,
But they're not for me and you.
There were Greeks who fought and perished,
Won from Persians deathless graves.
Had we lived then, we're aware that
We'd have been those same Greeks' slaves!
Then a Roman came who loved us;
Caesar gave men tongues and swords.
Crying 'Liberty,' they fought him,
Cato and his wild-beast lords.
When he'd give a broader franchise,
Lift the mangled nations bowed,
Crying 'Liberty!' they killed him,
Brutus and his cut-throat crowd.
We have read what history tells us,
O the truthful memory clings!
Tacitus, the chartered liar,
Gloating over poisoned kings!
'Liberty!' The stale cry echoes
Past smug homesteads, tinsel thrones,
Over smoking fields and hovels,
Murdered peasants' bleaching bones.
That's the cry that mocked us madly,
Toiling in our living graves,
When hell-mines sent up the chorus;
'Britons never shall be slaves!'
'Liberty!' We care not for it!
What we care for's food, clothes, homes,
For our dear ones, toiling, waiting
For the time that never comes!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Envy Nothing But One
I don’t envy the angels with wings who can fly
I’ve been soaring in the beautiful sky of your love
I don’t envy the beauty of the rainbow
You’ve made me the most beautiful woman in your love
I don’t envy the freedom of the dolphins swimming in the ocean
I’ve been swimming in the ocean of your loving eyes
I don’t envy Shakespeare for his love poems
I’ve become the greatest poet since I met you
I don’t envy Romeo’s faith to Juliet
You’ve never turned your heart from me, not even once
I don’t envy the softness of the dew the morning has
You’ve been kissing me gently with your tender lips
I don’t envy Monalisa’s wonderful smile Leonardo has
I’ve got one of mine on your face
I don’t envy the sweet sound a harp has
I’ve got a sweeter one when you whisper in my ears
I envy nothing but one
The way you love and make me feel this way
poem by Santi Dewi Sihombing
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Crown And The Ring (Lament Of The Kings)
From a battle I've come
To a battle I ride
Blazing up to the sky
Chains of fate
Hold a firey stride
I'll see you again when I die
High and mighty alone we are kings
Whirlwinds of fire we ride
Providence brought us the crown and the ring
Covered with blood and our pride
Heroes await me
My enemies ride fast
Knowing not this ride's their last
Saddle my horse as I drink my last ale
Bow string and steel will prevail
High and mighty alone we are kings
Whirlwinds of fire we ride
Providence brought us the crown and the ring
Covered with blood and our pride
Odin I await thee
Your true son am I
I hail you now as I die
I pledge you my sword and to no man I kneel
Ours is the kingdom of steel
High and mighty alone we are kings
Whirlwinds of fire we ride
Providence brought us the crown and the ring
Covered with blood and our pride
song performed by by Manowar from Kings Of Metal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All The Kings Horses
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put me back together again
My heart lies in pieces all over the ground
Whos gonna help me when youre not around
And I know inside me ,that nobody cares
Whatever happens to me
I live my life as a plea
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put me back together again
I was in love when I sat on my wall
No one could hurt me , no one at all
And I know that somewhere my love walked away
She threw my love to the sky
Nothing to do but to cry
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put me back together again
All the kings horses , all the kings horses
All the kings horses , all the kings horses
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One’s drive
I should marry such a woman
As others would envy me my wife.
I should attain such a position
As others would envy me my place.
I should construct such a building
As others would envy me my house.
In absence of others, I have no drive.
Envy, not love, influences one’s drive.
03.11.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gnarled Lust
Gnarled Lust
is a blackened tree
feasting on a murdered landscape;
having been watered by poisoned fertilizers
sprouted gray leaves
displaying a history of
driving Love's Bent;
but, more importantly, also a history of voracious greed, death, blood and atrocities,
its spread now reaches the dead vampire desire for immortality
by sucking red blood from prone victims
who crave
love, sex and death in swain's sucklings
fired of the desire to cheat death and live forever,
even at the cost of dead hand affections
and dark broodings
outside the light-
an ultimate narcissistic
confection
consumed
of poisoned drops;
of failed promises
illusioned drinkings
and bloody hands.
All there in history:
power mongers
mind killers
word demons
culture jailers
dead limp drug healers
all seeking to bury Faith alive
strangle Hope in its baby crib
all watered
under Lust's tree
and producing
millions of dead gray leaves
all embraced
reeking of the still warm blood
sucked from others.
All these in human history
seen marching
lashing the backs of slaves
of women, hapless men
of children;
an obsessed march
toward Lust's Dark Horizons
contorting history
while True Virtue
miraculously at History's Turning Point
ultimately showed its face
and started it's own march toward justice, mercy
and democracy
progress slow to be sure
but relentless
with these transfusions
now turning gray to green in some places,
and that battle
while not yet won
has been joined.
The lesson here my friend
then
is that there is a difference
between Good
and Evil.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When the Kings Went to War
When the kings went to war
Went to war
Went to war
When the kings went to war
I stayed home.
Now the kings have returned
Some have died
Most alive
Now the kings have returned
And I'm alone.
Who to tell
How to say
All that happened in the days
When the kings went to war
While I stayed home.
Oh the battles
Oh the hell
Not of war but worse
The well-kept secrets crying
To be known.
Knocks the door
Comes before
Nathan knows and he will tell
How the king failed to war
When he stayed home.
When the kings went to war
Went to war
Went to war
When the kings went to war
I stayed home.
The War Winners
The war winners always write the war history and as for those in war who have known defeat
They never do know of adulation and with a sad ending they meet
Arrested and tried for war crimes and executed for crimes against humanity
The victorious war leaders are feted as heroes though they seem no less guilty to me
Than those who are known as war losers in war far too many do die
And that the victorious of war crimes not guilty in truth of course only a lie
How can the one who order the bombings that killed thousands of people be seen as one quite free of taint
When they are guilty of mass murder and a murderer cannot be a saint
Why do we make heroes of villians two wrongs never do make a right
Though the winner is always the hero that's how it is in every fight
And the war dead with tears are remembered and the war mothers weep for their dead
Though their dead children helped to win the war and good things of them have been said.
The war winners write the war history that's how it is and it will always be
But history itself keeps repeating of war will we ever be free
If the victorious war leaders were not treated as heroes and for their war crimes arrested and tried
We may not have had war in the first place and so many young people may not have died.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Riverboat
Riverboat,
Revolution!
Light,
Darkness,
Stuff,
Selection,
Seed,
Weed,
Need,
Deed,
Heed!
In this world,
Back to life,
Queens,
Kings,
Juggling,
Watching,
Kings and Queens! !
The theory,
The story,
The history,
The glory!
With the pressure;
But, 'sorry' is a sorry word.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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