Three In A Shade.
Here we sit, and blind Desire
Plays his spinet in the shade.
How is it our fancies tire?
Why is it our hearts afraid,
Cower, as with trembling wing
'Neath the grey hawk Time that flies
Where the phantom colours cling
To the ever-fading skies?
Is it with all things but thus?
In our hearts when we were born
Young Desire laughed with us,
So, so old now and forlorn
As he sits, an eerie elf
In the wizard airs that stir,
With a man so like himself
And the ghost of what you were.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Related quotes
Fundamental of Liar Chapter XCVI: Fear
I don’t afraid of being old, I’m only afraid of being weak
I don’t afraid of being ugly, I’m only afraid of being useless
I don’t afraid of being nameless, I’m only afraid of being not loved
I don’t afraid of being lost, I’m only afraid of being blind
I don’t afraid of being dumb, I’m only afraid of being hopeless
I don’t afraid of being poor, I’m only afraid of being ungrateful
I don’t afraid of being loser, I’m only afraid of being coward
I don’t afraid of being bound, I’m only afraid of being fake
I don’t afraid of being wrong, I’m only afraid of being oblivious
I don’t afraid of being suffered, I’m only afraid of being surrender
I don’t afraid of being alone, I’m only afraid of being bored
I don't afraid of being loss, I'm only afraid of being lied
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Fear Of Dying
I'm not afraid of standing still
I'm just afraid of being bored
I'm not afraid of speaking my mind
I'm just afraid of being ignored
I'm not afraid of feeling
and I'm not afraid of trying
I'm just afraid of losing
And I am afraid of dying
Without you yes I do and I hope that you do too
Without you yes I do
Without you yes I do and I hope that you do too
Without you yes I...
I'm not afraid of being sick
I'm more afraid of being well
I'm not afraid
Put the gun in my hand
I'm just afraid it will hurt like (hurt like) hell
I'm not afraid of screaming
and I'm not afraid of crying
I'm just afraid of forgetting
And I am afraid of dying
Without you yes I do and I hope that you do too
Without you yes I do
Without you yes I do and I hope that you do too
Without you yes I...
Fear of
Fear of
Fear of
Fear of
I'm not afraid of looking ugly
I couldn't care what they say
I'm not afraid of happy endings
I'm just afraid my life won't work that way
I'm not afraid of forgiveness
I absolve you everything
I'm not afraid of lying...
But I am afraid of dying
Without you yes I do and I hope that you do too
Without you yes I do
Without you all I do is sit and think about you
Without you yes I...
song performed by by Jack Off Jill from Clear Hearts Grey Flowers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hearts On Fire
We saw the writings on the wall
When heathens ruled above us all
Tormented, we still heard the call
You come to bring us down
Wield the scepter, steal the crown
Time on the throne is running out
Cause seasons change but we are still the same
Event though the cold winds blow were burning like a flame
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Hearts On Fire
For years shunned by society
Outcasts, condemned for our beliefs
Our legions grew in secrecy
And now, the time is here
I see the Templars everywhere
The Freedom Call is drawing near
We hold our rebel banners up with pride
The colours crimson and the Hammer is the sign
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Solo: Stefan
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Skylark
She flies through cobalt colored skies
Filtered with sunlit colored rays
When she soars
Hearts also soar
Free spirit on the wing
With a song so sweet to sing
In a forested evening shade
With odors of fall and her song in the glade
Softly the forest children appear
To see skylark not on the wing
But yet with a beautiful song
So sweet to sing.
Desire
Two hearts fading, like a flower.
And all this waiting, for the power.
For some answer, to this fire.
Sinking slowly. The waters higher.
Desire
With no secrets. No obsession.
This time I'm speeding with no direction.
Without a reason. What is this fire?
Burning slowly. My one and only.
Desire
You know me. You don't mind waiting.
You just can't show me, but God I'm praying,
That you'll find me, and that you'll see me,
That you run and never tire.
Desire
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Next Time
Next time (if I get the chance)
I will take a different stance
Yes, try to be what I am not
And so below unfold my plot) ...
Next time I`ll not turn a cheek
Next time, I shall not be weak
No, next time I won`t weep and wail
For next time round I will not fail
Next time I shall not be late
Next time I won`t hesitate
No, next time I`ll not flounder long
Yes, next time I`ll be sure and strong
Next time I won`t be so small
Next time I`ll walk proud and tall
And next time I won`t hide my face
For next time I will have my place
Next time I shall get it right
Next time I will shout and fight
For next time It won`t be the same
Yes, next time I will win the game
Next time I won`t be afraid
And stay unnoticed in the shade
For next time I will be the one
To shine triumphant `neath the sun
Next time you will hear my voice
Next time, next time I will rejoice
For next time I`ll be brave and free
OH NEXT TIME, YES, JUST WAIT AND SEE! !
(Next time if I can I will
Be all these things, or better still
I`ll stay myself and be content
To live as now, indifferent)
poem by Valerie Dohren
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You Are A Human Being
You don’t float because
Your father is a carpenter
He floats well in water because
His father is a duck
On the other hand, he flies
Well in air, not because his
Father is a vulture, it is obvious
He looks like a hawk and acts like a hawk
It is obvious,
He is a hawk himself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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From 'Religious Musings
I
THERE is one Mind, one omnipresent Mind,
Omnific. His most holy name is Love.
Truth of subliming import! with the which
Who feeds and saturates his constant soul,
He from his small particular orbit flies
With blest outstarting! From himself he flies,
Stands in the sun, and with no partial gaze
Views all creation; and he loves it all,
And blesses it, and calls it very good!
This is indeed to dwell with the Most High!
Cherubs and rapture-trembling Seraphim
Can press no nearer to the Almighty’s throne.
But that we roam unconscious, or with hearts
Unfeeling of our universal Sire,
And that in His vast family no Cain
Injures uninjured (in her best-aimed blow
Victorious Murder a blind Suicide)
Haply for this some younger Angel now
Looks down on Human Nature: and, behold!
A sea of blood bestrewed with wrecks, where mad
Embattling Interests on each other rush
With unhelmed rage!
’Tis the sublime of man,
Our noontide Majesty, to know ourselves
Parts and proportions of one wondrous whole!
This fraternizes man, this constitutes
Our charities and bearings. But ’tis God
Diffused through all, that doth make all one whole;
This the worst superstition, him except
Aught to desire, Supreme Reality!
The plenitude and permanence of bliss!
II
Toy-bewitched,
Made blind by lusts, disherited of soul,
No common centre Man, no common sire
Knoweth! A sordid solitary thing,
Mid countless brethren with a lonely heart
Through courts and cities the smooth savage roams
Feeling himself, his own low self the whole;
When he by sacred sympathy might make
The whole one Self! Self, that no alien knows!
Self, far diffused as Fancy’s wing can travel!
Self, spreading still! Oblivious of its own,
Yet all of all possessing! This is Faith!
This the Messiah’s destined victory!
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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A Thermometrical Ballade
There’s a wind up that licks like a flame,
And the sun is a porthole of hell.
Now evanish prim notions of shame,
And the craving to look rather well –
In pyjamas you’re never a swell,
And you’ve chosen some roomily made.
Oh! for ices these pangs to dispel –
It’s one hundred and nine in the shade!
We have limped in from tennis. That game ! –
I’d as soon with the damned where they dwell
Stoke a furnace and bathe in the same!
There’s no drink human craving to quell,
Not thin chablis nor sweet muscatel.
Never more shall we see, I’m afraid,
The cool shallows, the pale asphodel.
It’s one hundred and nine in the shade.
You recline an invertebrate frame
In the moisture your atoms expel,
‘Gainst the fates very feebly declaim,
All too limp to rise up and rebel.
Action flies and mosquitoes compel.
We make pitiful fight ‘gainst the raid
With a cloying and nauseous smell
In one hundred and nine in the shade.
ENVOY
Here might solids of Hamlet dispel.
Quick the answer to prayer that he prayed.
Human flesh turns to dew ‘neath the spell
Of one hundred and nine in the shade.
poem by Edward George Dyson
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It's Never Too Late
Graham Russell/Michael Sherwood)
Take the river to the highest mountain
Take the ocean to the farthest sea
I'd take back everything I've said to hurt you
If you'd come back to me
I'd bring you fire from the frozen waters
Leave a flower 'neath a fallen tree
I'd take back everything I said to scare you
Away from me
Two hands can feel so much more
That's what I'm loving you for
I was too blind to see fear was inside of me
I'm not afraid anymore
CHORUS
It's never too late, it's never too late
To forgive and forget
Tell me that it isn't over, tell me that it isn't over
I'll never hold you again
If a broken wing can still be mended
Then a foolish heart can still be true
Take the river to the highest mountain
That's where I'll wait for you
Two hearts can feel so much more
That's what I'm loving you for
The man that you tried to free
Is still locked inside of me
And your heart must open the door
CHORUS
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
song performed by by Air Supply
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Convinced of It
I am afraid to grow grey.
And be left alone!
No.
I am afraid to be left alone.
With thoughts that are laid,
I am getting increasingly grey.
No.
I am getting increasingly grey,
And 'that' has made me afraid.
No.
I am afraid to awaken one day...
In total and complete denial.
But then...
I have been assured,
Those days I await...
Are too far off.
Especially for those like myself,
Still blessed and equipped...
With such a youthful appearance.
And all of us sitting around reminiscing this distance,
Are happy as we giggle.
And thoroughly convinced of it.
We are the 'chosen' specimen,
That will escape from the aging process.
Intended for some but not for us!
The ones still getting those nips and tucks.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Red Shirt
When they asked me why I started doing this again
I just told them, its cause I have to...
I can't leave the life I have behind me
I tried to leave but you came to find me
you took me back you had to rewind me
taught me to listen cause I let them blind me
I spoke the truth you had to remind me
I didn't use the same rhymes all the time
there was no hill that I couldn't climb
with the fire ad crawl through barb wire
my heart beat went flat like a car tire
whats worse is I let them take my desire
I went too far I was too tired to tire
I was far too proud to look like a liar
It felt right to run the other way
I told myself ad come back another day
wiped the sweat and tears, the blood stained
when my shirt was white I realized I changed.
poem by Daniel McCann
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I Need You
(l.gramm/m.jones)
Selling your soul aint the right way of givin
Oh with you I could change
This misguided goal Ive been livin
Anything, anything, you might need or desire
Just call on me, cause my hearts on fire
And I need you
Do you need me too?
Yes I need you, yes I need you
Many is the time Ive cursed the lords creations
Ah but you touched my hand
I loved this new sensation
It was very strange, what a change
Of you I did not tire
So call on me, my hearts on fire
Well I need you
Do you need me too? need me too?
Yes I need you, ah
Yes I need you
Oh I need you
And I need you
Say you need me too
Yes I need you
Oh I need
Say you need me too
Yes I need you
And I need you
Oh I need
Yes I need you
Oh I need
Say you need me too
Say you need me too
Say you need me too
Say, say baby
Say you need me too
Yes I need you
Oh I need you too
And I need you
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grey Hours: Naples
There are some hours when I seem so indifferent; all things fade
To an indifferent greyness, like that grey of the sky;
Always at evening-ends, on grey days; and I know not why,
But life, and art, and love, and death, are the shade of a shade.
Then, in those hours, I hear old voices murmur aloud,
And memory forgoes desire, too weary at heart for regret;
Dreams come with beckoning fingers, and I forget to forget;
The world as a cloud drifts by, or I drift by as a cloud.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Hidden Sins
FOR every sin that comes before the light,
And leaves an outward blemish on the soul,
How many, darker, cower out of sight,
And burrow, blind and silent, like the mole.
And like the mole, too, with its busy feet
That dig and dig a never-ending cave,
Our hidden sins gnaw through the soul, and meet
And feast upon each other in its grave.
A buried sin is like a covered sore
That spreads and festers 'neath a painted face;
And no man's art can heal it evermore,
But only His—the Surgeon's—promised grace.
Who hides a sin is like the hunter who
Once warmed a frozen adder with his breath,
And when he placed it near his heart it flew
With poisoned fangs and stung that heart to death.
A sculptor once a granite statue made,
One-sided only, just to fit its place:
The unseen side was monstrous; so men shade
Their evil acts behind a smiling face.
O blind! O foolish! thus our sins to hide,
And force our pleading hearts the gall to sip;
O cowards! who must eat the myrrh, that Pride
May smile like Virtue with a lying lip.
A sin admitted is nigh half atoned;
And while the fault is red and freshly done,
If we but dropp our eyes and think,—'tis owned,—
'Tis half forgiven, half the crown is won.
But if we heedless let it reek and rot,
Then pile a mountain on its grave, and turn,
With smiles to all the world,—that tainted spot
Beneath the mound will never cease to burn.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Limitations Of The Human Desire
desire wants to run
but its feet are bound by the codes
of restraints
desire wants to kiss
but the lips are owned by someone else
desire wants to make love
but there is no time left
desire wants to die
but there is no decision yet
and so desire sits on the floor
spreads its legs like one
ballet dancer
stills itself until the next music
plays
until the next curtain rises
until the next bell rings
before the night
is over
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Ikon
On a day like no other
In a time unique, in a place divine
Keep your eye on the ikon
Shining in the light of eternal mind.
I went to sleep a blind man
But when I awoke I saw
The legions of the lonely
See their faces, hear them call.
See how they hang on
Each one in a world of his own design
Listen to the ikon
Ringing in the sound of eternal mind.
And the music plays forever
And it captures every ear
And the sound of barriers crashing down
Is the sweet harmony you hear.
Still, be still
To strong, so be still
Much too long, come down
Be still, look around
Listen here, be still
Hear the sound, be still.
Still we are here
We are still
Will we sing sweet
Sing we will
Still we are here
We are still
Nil is a fear all is nil
Still we are here we are still
Spill it let go let it spill.
The question comes to mind
About what should be done
And how much of the old will die
That the new may be begun
But you dont have to be afraid
Of being alone with nowhere to run.
You dont have to be afraid
To look yourself in the eye
You dont have to be afraid not to lie.
Someone knows who you are
Someone watches over you
Someone knows how you feel
And someone feels the same.
So you dont have to be afraid
Never fear, for you are living in eternal mind
For those who still recoil
For those who fear the pain
Of peering oer the edge of
A new and different plane.
You dont have to be afraid
Whenever you go you come back again
So you dont have to be afraid
We live and we die
You dont have to be afraid to know why.
You dont have to be afraid
Whenever you go you come back again
So you dont have to be afraid
We live and we die
You dont have to be afraid to know why.
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Isaura
Dost thou not tire, Isaura, of this play?
'What play?' Why, this old play of winning hearts!
Nay, now, lift not thine eyes in that feigned way:
'Tis all in vain—I know thee and thine arts.
Let us be frank, Isaura. I have made
A study of thee; and while I admire
The practised skill with which thy plans are laid,
I can but wonder if thou dost not tire.
Why, I tire even of Hamlet and Macbeth!
When overlong the season runs, I find
Those master-scenes of passion, blood, and death,
After a time do pall upon my mind.
Dost thou not tire of lifting up thine eyes
To read the story thou hast read so oft—
Of ardent glances and deep quivering sighs,
Of haughty faces suddenly grown soft?
Is it not stale, oh, very stale, to thee,
The scene that follows? Hearts are much the same;
The loves of men but vary in degree—
They find no new expressions for the flame.
Thou must know all they utter ere they speak,
As I know Hamlet's part, whoever plays.
Oh, does it not seem sometimes poor and weak?
I think thou must grow weary of their ways.
I pity thee, Isaura! I would be
The humblest maiden with her dream untold
Rather than live a Queen of Hearts, like thee,
And find life's rarest treasures stale and old.
I pity thee; for now, let come what may,
Fame, glory, riches, yet life will lack all.
Wherewith can salt be salted? And what way
Can life be seasoned after love doth pall?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Son Davie! Son Davie!
'What bluid's that on thy coat lap?
Son Davie! Son Davie!
What bluid's that on thy coat lap?
And the truth come tell to me, O.'
'It is the bluid of my great hawk,
Mother lady, Mother lady!
It is the bluid of my great hawk,
And the truth I hae tald to thee, O.'
'Hawk's bluid was ne'er sae red,
Son Davie! Son Davie!
Hawk's bluid was ne'er sae red,
And the truth come tell to me, O.'
'It is the bluid of my grey hound,
Mother lady! Mother lady!
It is the bluid of my grey hound,
And it wudna rin for me, O.'
'Hound's bluid was ne'er sae red,
Son Davie! Son Davie!
Hound's bluid was ne'er sae red,
And the truth come tell to me, O.'
'It is the bluid o' my brother John,
Mother lady! Mother lady!
It is the bluid o' my brother John,
And the truth I hae tald to thee, O.'
'What about did the plea begin?
Son Davie! Son Davie!'
'It began about the cutting o' a willow wand,
That would never hae been a tree, O.'
'What death dost thou desire to die?
Son Davie! Son Davie!
What death dost thou desire to die?
And the truth come tell to me, O.'
'I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship,
Mother lady! mother lady!
I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship,
And ye'll never see mair o' me, O.'
'What wilt thou leave to thy poor wife?
Son Davie! Son Davie!'
'Grief and sorrow all her life,
And she'll never get mair frae me, O.'
'What wilt thou leave to thy young son?
Son Davie! son Davie!'
'The weary warld to wander up and down,
And he'll never get mair o' me, O.'
'What wilt thou leave to thy mother dear?
Son Davie! Son Davie!'
'A fire o' coals to burn her wi' hearty cheer,
And she'll never get mair o' me, O.'
poem by Andrew Lang
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Hawk And Buckle
Where is the landlord of old Hawk and Buckle,
And what of Master Straddler this hot summer weather?
He's along in the tap-room with broad cheeks a-chuckle,
And ten bold companions all drinking together.
Where is the daughter of old Hawk and Buckle,
And what of Mistress Jenny this hot summer weather?
She sits in the parlour with smell of honeysuckle,
Trimming her bonnet with red ostrich feather.
Where is the ostler of old Hawk and Buckle,
And what of Willy Jakeman this hot summer weather?
He is rubbing his eyes with a slow and lazy knuckle
As he wakes from his nap on a bank of fresh heather.
Where is the page boy of old Hawk and Buckle,
And what of our young Charlie this hot summer weather?
He is bobbing for tiddlers in a little trickle-truckle,
With his line and his hook and his breeches of leather.
Where is the grey goat of old Hawk and Buckle,
And what of pretty Nanny this hot summer weather?
She stays not contented with little or with muckle,
Straining for daisies at the end of her tether.
For this is our motto at old Hawk and Buckle,
We cling to it close and we sing all together,
'Every man for himself at our old Hawk and Buckle,
And devil take the hindmost this hot summer weather.'
poem by Robert Graves
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