His Meditation Upon Death
BE those few hours, which I have yet to spend,
Blest with the meditation of my end;
Though they be few in number, I'm content;
If otherwise, I stand indifferent,
Nor makes it matter, Nestor's years to tell,
If man lives long, and if he live not well.
A multitude of days still heaped on
Seldom brings order, but confusion.
Might I make choice, long life should be with-stood;
Nor would I care how short it were, if good;
Which to effect, let ev'ry passing bell
Possess my thoughts, next comes my doleful knell;
And when the night persuades me to my bed,
I'll think I'm going to be buried;
So shall the blankets which come over me
Present those turfs, which once must cover me;
And with as firm behaviour I will meet
The sheet I sleep in, as my winding-sheet.
When Sleep shall bathe his body in mine eyes,
I will believe, that then my body dies;
And if I chance to wake, and rise thereon,
I'll have in mind my resurrection,
Which must produce me to that Gen'ral Doom,
To which the peasant, so the prince must come,
To hear the Judge give sentence on the Throne,
Without the least hope of affection.
Tears, at that day, shall make but weak defense,
When Hell and horror fright the conscience.
Let me, though late, yet at the last, begin
To shun the least temptation to a sin;
Though to be tempted be no sin, until
Man to th'alluring object gives his will.
Such let my life assure me, when my breath
Goes thieving from me, I am safe in death;
Which is the height of comfort, when I fall,
I rise triumphant in my funeral.
poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Wake Up And Live
Wake up and live
Wake up and live your life see what there is to see
I won't sit around all day cause life means more to me
wake up and live
so many kids content to sleep their lives away
but I'm gona try to make themost out of this day
wake up and live
it takes some motivation It takes some love for life
why just sit complacent and let life pass you by
boredom is a choice I choose not to make
unlock that door, strive for more
there's a better path to take
WAKE UP AND LIVEbreath every breath
WAKE UP AND LIVE until my death
WAKE UP AND LIVE so much to do
WAKE UP AND LIVE all of you
c'mon, open your eyes
song performed by by Youth Of Today
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Elusive Sleep
Sleep evades me in the night
I listen to sounds make thoughts
which play upon my mind
in the dark of the room I lay
waiting for serenity to come
time passes slowly
as though held imperfect
its warm, too warm for comfort
and too cold beyond the bed sheet
the day has been long, the body aches
still, still sleep evades me
and those sounds, each shadow
play upon the mind more and more
restless and anxious for sleep
to rest, to dream, to be at peace
the elusive sleep in the night
where thoughts consume me
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O death, rock me on sleep
O death! rock me on sleep,
Bring me on quiet rest;
Yet pass my guiltless ghost
Out of my careful breast:
Toll on the passing bell,
Ring out the doleful knell,
Let the sound of my death tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy,
For now I die.
My pains who can express?
Alas! they are so strong,
My dolor will not suffer strength
My life for to prolong:
Toll on the passing bell, etc.
Alone, in prison strong,
I wail my destiny,
Wo worth this cruel hap that I
Should taste this misery:
Toll on the passing bell, etc.
Farewell my pleasures past,
Welcome my present pain;
I feel my torments so increase
That life cannot remain.
Cease now the passing bell,
Rung is my doleful knell,
For the sound my death doth tell,
Death doth draw nigh,
Sound my end dolefully,
For now I die.
poem by Anne Boleyn (1536)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Rise Or Fall
Take action
Gotta raise a fist in blood
Domination
Can't continue acting like jerks
You show me all there's a chance
With only words for defence
There is no freedom to speak, no
Rise or fall
Number one to take the stand
Rise or fall
Take a word from this promised land
Yeah
Your reaction
Sticks and stones are no match for steel
This rebellion
Revolution's in your hands
Now listen
So it's part Apache
Do you know what that means?
Is it a segregation?
Rise or fall
Number one to take the stand
Rise or fall
Take a word from this promised land
Strength in numbers can alter your place
Take the action before it's too late
Make a stand
Give it up
Rise or fall
Number one to take the stand
Rise or fall
Take a word from this promised land
Rise or fall
Number one to take the stand
Rise or fall
Take a word
Take a word from this land
Rise or fall
Rise or fall
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Don't Care
I don't care where I live my life
As long as I have you,
I don't care where my home is
As long as there is us two,
I don't care if we live in a house
Or in a mansion, or even a cave,
I just want you at my side
Where together, forever we will stay,
I don't care to count out my money
Every nickel, penny, quarter or dime,
I don't care to spend all of our money
On our place that is yours and mine,
I don't care if the nights are cold
At the place that we will call home.
I don't care if the days are hot
As long as I have you and I am not alone,
I don't care what country we are in
Or where finally we will lay our roots,
I don't care what language me might speak
As long as I can still say I love you,
I don't care where I sleep at night
Whether it be a hut, or cabin, tent or igloo,
I don't care where I wake up in the morning
As long as I wake up next to you,
I don't care if we have one room
At the place that we will spend our life,
I don't care what people might ever say
All I care is to have you as my wife.
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When Thou Hast Spent The Lingering Day
WHEN thou hast spent the lingering day in pleasure and delght,
Or after toil and weary way, dost seek to rest at night,
Unto thy pains or pleasures past, add this one labor yet:
Ere sleep close up thine eye too fast, do not thy God forget,
But search within thy secret thoughts, what deeds did thee befall;
And if thou find amiss in aught, to God for mercy call.
Yea, though thou find nothing amiss which thou canst call to mind,
Yet evermore remmeber this: there is the more behind;
And think how well so ever it be that thou hast spent the day,
It came of God, and not of thee, so to direct thy way.
Thus if thou try thy daily deeds and pleasure in this pain,
Thy life shall cleanse thy corn from weeds, and thine shall be the gain;
But if thy sinful, sluggish eye will venture for to wink,
Before thy wading will may try how far thy soul may sink,
Beware and wake; for else, thy bed, which soft and smooth is made,
May heap more harm upon thy head than blows of en'my's blade.
Thus if this pain procure thine ease, in bed as thou dost lie,
Perhaps it shall not God displease to sing thus, soberly:
``I see that sleep is lent me here to ease my weary bones,
As death at last shall eke appear, to ease my grievous groans.
My daily sports, my paunch full fed, have caused my drowsy eye,
As careless life, in quiet led, might cause my soul to die.
The stretching arms, the yawning breath, which I to bedward use,
Are patterns of the pangs of death, when life will me refuse.
And of my bed each sundry part in shadows doth resemble
The sundry shapes of death, whose dart shall make my flesh to tremble.
My bed itself is like the grave, my sheets the winding sheet,
My clothes the mold which I must have to cover me most meet;
The hungry fleas, which frisk so fresh, to worms I can compare,
Which greedily shall gnaw my flesh and leave the bones full bare.
The waking cock, that early crows to wear the night away
Puts in my mind the trump that blows before the Latter Day.
And as I rise up lustily when sluggish sleep is past,
So hope I to rise joyfully to Judgment at the last.
Thus will I wake, thus will I sleep, thus will I hope to rise,
Thus will I neither wail nor weep, but sing in godly wise;
My bones shall in this bed remain, my soul in God shall trust,
By whom I hope to rise again from death and earthly dust.''
poem by George Gascoigne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Wait!
Your arms are warm wrapped around my body
Your breath, sweet, lazily it wafts over my face
I can feel your chest rise and fall next to mine
Your hair and eyes shine brightly in the dark
As I close my eyes to dream off
I wake in this dark room to find I left the dream behind
The cold air from the window swings its fanged head and bites at my exposures
To think, you were just here
Not a memory but a dream, a wish, my wish
To have that dream in reality
Given two or four years time
That dream will be real
For now I live in a real nightmare until the sun comes
Due to the darkness and lone dreamer
It is hard to find comfort and return to a calm sleep
As thoughts of you press hard on my mind and sway thus
It only deepens the wounded thought that I must wait hours to see you
Hours to hold and years to fulfill that dream
For now I shall dream and dwell upon them
Because dreams give me insight to the future
Let it be a De’javu.
poem by Ryan Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Yad Mordechai
Yad Mordechai. Those who fell here
still look out the windows like sick children
who are not allowed outside to play.
And on the hillside, the battle is reenacted
for the benefit of hikers and tourists. Soldiers of thin sheet iron
rise and fall and rise again. Sheet iron dead and a sheet iron life
and the voices all—sheet iron. And the resurrection of the dead,
sheet iron that clangs and clangs.
And I said to myself: Everyone is attached to his own lament
as to a parachute. Slowly he descends and slowly hovers
until he touches the hard place.
Translated by Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld
poem by Yehuda Amichai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O Death, O Death, Rock Me Asleep
O Death, O Death, rock me asleep,
Bring me to quiet rest;
Let pass my weary guiltless ghost
Out of my careful breast.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.
My pains, my pains, who can express?
Alas, they are so strong!
My dolours will not suffer strength
My life for to prolong.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.
Alone, alone in prison strong
I wail my destiny:
Woe worth this cruel hap that I
Must taste this misery!
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.
Farewell, farewell, my pleasures past!
Welcome, my present pain!
I feel my torment so increase
That life cannot remain.
Cease now, thou passing bell,
Ring out my doleful knoll,
For thou my death dost tell:
Lord, pity thou my soul!
Death doth draw nigh,
Sound dolefully:
For now I die,
I die, I die.
O Death, O Death, Rock Me Asleep
O Death, O Death, rock me asleep,
Bring me to quiet rest;
Let pass my weary guiltless ghost
Out of my careful breast.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.
My pains, my pains, who can express?
Alas, they are so strong!
My dolours will not suffer strength
My life for to prolong.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.
Alone, alone in prison strong
I wail my destiny:
Woe worth this cruel hap that I
Must taste this misery!
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.
Farewell, farewell, my pleasures past!
Welcome, my present pain!
I feel my torment so increase
That life cannot remain.
Cease now, thou passing bell,
Ring out my doleful knoll,
For thou my death dost tell:
Lord, pity thou my soul!
Death doth draw nigh,
Sound dolefully:
For now I die,
I die, I die.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seeing You Dying, Hurts
Ever wonder, just a ponder
what life would be like
if we were told we had little to live
tears and fears, mind blowing
what to do, no time to go
the anger, the pain, the stress
how long to go, no one knows
could be fast, maybe slow and last
forever we want to live
we pray for long life and healthiness
why do we get picked, not our choice
people been there some survive.others don't
thinking where life should go
quit the job, see the world
sit and moan, don't frown
get on your feet live it well
happiness extents life
be free and enjoy those days
number as they are
limited as you go, be with the ones who care
for they will suffer the most
living without you
give them memories to share
do not spare, they do care
pictures and stories last forever
good and bad, tears and laughter will fall
missing you will be so hard
been together for all your life
the world will be so lost
without you there
have to find away to go on
it's not the same, things will change
lives will go on
never let go, you been told
it's so hard to let you go
time so cruel, it's running out
please forgive me if I cry
your a big part of our lives
stay around and have some fun
life is grand and so are you
give it all, don't let time end
love makes time, time makes life
I will smile till the end
cry to myself, show no pain
the hurt so hidden
makes me think
why not me, why you
poem by Michael Peterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Essay on Death and a Prison
A prison is in all things like a grave,
Where we no better priviledges have
Then dead men, nor so good. The soul once fled
Lives freer now, then when she was cloystered
In walls of flesh; and though she organs want
To act her swift designs, yet all will grant
Her faculties more clear, now separate,
Then if the same conjunction, which of late
Did marry her to earth, had stood in force,
Uncapable of death, or of divorce:
But an imprison'd mind, though living, dies,
And at one time feels two captivities;
A narrow dungeon which her body holds,
But narrower body which her self enfolds.
Whil'st I in prison ly, nothing is free,
Nothing enlarg'd but thought and miserie;
Though e'ry chink be stopt, the doors close barr'd,
Despight of walls and locks, through e'ry ward
These have their issues forth; may take the aire,
Though not for health, but onely to compare
How wretched those men are who freedom want,
By such as never suffer'd a restraint.
In which unquiet travel could I find
Ought that might settle my distemper'd mind,
Or of some comfort make discovery
It were a voyage well imploy'd: but I,
Like our raw travellers that cross the seas
To fetch home fashions or some worse disease,
Instead of quiet a new torture bring
Home t'afflict me, malice and murmuring.
What is't I envy not? no dog nor fly
But my desires prefer, and wish were I;
For they are free, or if they were like me,
They had no sense to know calamitie.
But in the grave no sparks of envy live,
No hot comparisons that causes give
Of quarrel, or that our affections move
Any condition, save their own, to love.
There are no objects there but shades and night,
And yet that darkness better then the light.
There lives a silent harmony, no jar
Or discord can that sweet soft consort mar.
The graves deaf ear is clos'd against all noise
Save that which rocks must hear, the angels voice:
Whose trump shall wake the world, and raise up men
Who in earths bosom slept, bed-rid till then.
What man then would, who on deaths pillow slumbers,
Be re-inspir'd with life, though golden numbers
Of bliss were pour'd into his breast; though he
Were sure in change to gain a Monarchie?
A Monarchs glorious state compar'd with his,
Less safe, less free, less firm, less quiet is.
For nere was any Prince advanc't so high
That he was out of reach of misery:
Never did story yet a law report
To banish fate or sorrow from his Court;
Where ere he moves by land, or through the Main,
These go along sworn members of his train.
But he whom the kind earth hath entertain'd,
Hath in her womb a sanctuary gain'd,
Whose charter and protection arm him so,
That he is priviledg'd from future woe.
The Coffin's a safe harbour, where he rides
Land-bound, below cross windes, or churlish tides.
For grief, sprung up with life, was mans half-brother
Fed by the taste, brought forth by sin, the mother.
And since the first seduction of the wife,
God did decree to grief a lease for life;
Which Patent in full force continue must,
Till man that disobey'd revert to dust.
So that lifes sorrows ratifi'd by God
Cannot expire, or find their period,
Until the soul and body disunite,
And by two diff'rent wayes from each take flight.
But they dissolved once our woes disband,
Th' assurance cancell'd by one fatall hand;
Soon as the passing bell proclaims me dead,
My sorrows sink with me, lye buried
In the same heap of dust, the self-same Urn
Doth them and me alike to nothing turn.
If then of these I might election make
Whether I would refuse, and whether take,
Rather then like a sullen Anchorite
I would live cas'd in stone, and learn to write
A Prisoners story, which might steal some tears
From the sad eyes of him that reads or hears;
Give me a peaceful death, and let me meet
My freedom seal'd up in my winding sheet.
Death is the pledge of rest, and with one bayl
Two Prisons quits, the Body and the Jayl.
poem by Henry King
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Maker
(daniel lanois)
Oh, oh deep water, black and cold like the night
I stand with arms wide open
Ive run a twisted line
Im a stranger in the eyes of the maker
I could not see for the fog in my eyes
I could not feel for the fear in my life
From across the great divide, in the distance I saw a light
Of jean baptistes hes walking to me with the maker
My body my body is bent and broken by long and dangerous sleep
I cant work the fields of abraham and turn my head away
Im not a stranger in the hands of the maker
Brother john, have you seen the homeless daughters
Standing there with broken wings
I have seen the flaming swords
There over east of eden
Burning in the eyes of the maker
Burning in the eyes of the maker
Burning in the eyes of the maker
Oh, river rise from your sleep
Oh, river rise from your sleep
Oh, river rise from your sleep
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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March Of Time
Hours of lust, hours of tears passing by before my eyes
Today, tomorrow, yesterday. . .one life
Days of joy, day of sadness come and go to pass me by
A month, a year, one hundred years, they fly
Bridge: ohh, one day I will be gone to lead another life
Ohh, and this world will stop to turn around with me
cause
Chorus: time. . .marches
Time. . .marches
On without us all, never stops, yes
Time. . .marches
Time. . .marches
On and on and on, flies eternally
Times of peace, times of fights, constant movement is our life
Cant stop no more, not until. . .we die
We long for more. . .eternity, and maybe theres another life
This one is short, no matter how you try
Bridge: ohh, but never give up all the hope to lead a good life
No, dont waste your given time to make things worse
Chorus: time. . .marches
Time. . .marches
One without us all, never stops, yes
Time. . .marches
Time. . .marches
On and on and on, flies eternally
Plese, please help me see, the best way to be
Make a change and we, live eternally
No more wasted years, no more wasted tears
Lifes too short to cry, long enough to try
Chorus: time. . .marches
Time. . .marches
On without us all, never stops, yes
Time. . .marches
Time. . .marches
On and on and on, flies eternally
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Little Safe Fun
It can be fun to have a little fun
If good fun is coming you shouldn't run
Having harmless fun is fair exercise
Then go and have a little fun but be wise
You should beware of having certain fun
As it could later make you very stun
It sometimes happened after the fun is done
And it could leave you sad and numb
That's the sort of fun you need to shun
When discern it coming you have to run
All the same, a life without fun is done
Then it can be fun to have a little fun
A life should sweetly lived before it's done
As no one knows for how long it is come
Lovely and beautiful like the setting sun
Yet without a little fun life is good as done
A little safe fun a little safe fun
Live your life with a little safe fun
Live it right while there is chance
A little safe fun gives life a prance.
poem by Clarence Prince
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Can I Sleep?
How can I sleep when the nights are long,
too long to be in bed?
The pull of the pen is calling me,
too many words in my head.
There's not enough time. Why waste it on sleep?
too many things to write.
I hear the words call out to me
too often in the night.
But what care I about the time?
It's the words I care about.
For the body when tired can always sleep
and my thoughts would probably doubt
my sincerity to this purposeful quest
to connect my mind with the page.
I have dedicated my waking hours
too often as I age.
How can I sleep when the nights are long,
too long to be in bed?
That can be left for a future time
when I've nothing left to be said.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Exequy
1 Accept, thou shrine of my dead saint,
2 Instead of dirges, this complaint;
3 And for sweet flow'rs to crown thy hearse,
4 From thy griev'd friend, whom thou might'st see
5 Quite melted into tears for thee.
6 Dear loss! since thy untimely fate
7 My task hath been to meditate
8 On thee, on thee; thou art the book,
9 The library whereon I look,
10 Though almost blind. For thee (lov'd clay)
11 I languish out, not live, the day,
12 Using no other exercise
13 But what I practise with mine eyes;
14 By which wet glasses I find out
15 How lazily time creeps about
16 To one that mourns; this, only this,
17 My exercise and bus'ness is.
18 So I compute the weary hours
19 With sighs dissolved into showers.
20 Nor wonder if my time go thus
21 Backward and most preposterous;
22 Thou hast benighted me; thy set
23 This eve of blackness did beget,
24 Who wast my day (though overcast
25 Before thou hadst thy noon-tide past)
26 And I remember must in tears,
27 Thou scarce hadst seen so many years
28 As day tells hours. By thy clear sun
29 My love and fortune first did run;
30 But thou wilt never more appear
31 Folded within my hemisphere,
32 Since both thy light and mot{"i}on
33 Like a fled star is fall'n and gone;
34 And 'twixt me and my soul's dear wish
35 An earth now interposed is,
36 Which such a strange eclipse doth make
37 As ne'er was read in almanac.
38 I could allow thee for a time
39 To darken me and my sad clime;
40 Were it a month, a year, or ten,
41 I would thy exile live till then,
42 And all that space my mirth adjourn,
43 So thou wouldst promise to return,
44 And putting off thy ashy shroud,
45 At length disperse this sorrow's cloud.
46 But woe is me! the longest date
47 Too narrow is to calculate
48 These empty hopes; never shall I
49 Be so much blest as to descry
50 A glimpse of thee, till that day come
51 Which shall the earth to cinders doom,
52 And a fierce fever must calcine
53 The body of this world like thine,
54 (My little world!). That fit of fire
55 Once off, our bodies shall aspire
56 To our souls' bliss; then we shall rise
57 And view ourselves with clearer eyes
58 In that calm region where no night
59 Can hide us from each other's sight.
60 Meantime, thou hast her, earth; much good
61 May my harm do thee. Since it stood
62 With heaven's will I might not call
63 Her longer mine, I give thee all
64 My short-liv'd right and interest
65 In her whom living I lov'd best;
66 With a most free and bounteous grief,
67 I give thee what I could not keep.
68 Be kind to her, and prithee look
69 Thou write into thy doomsday book
70 Each parcel of this rarity
71 Which in thy casket shrin'd doth lie.
72 See that thou make thy reck'ning straight,
73 And yield her back again by weight;
74 For thou must audit on thy trust
75 Each grain and atom of this dust,
76 As thou wilt answer Him that lent,
77 Not gave thee, my dear monument.
78 So close the ground, and 'bout her shade
79 Black curtains draw, my bride is laid.
80 Sleep on my love in thy cold bed
81 Never to be disquieted!
82 My last good-night! Thou wilt not wake
83 Till I thy fate shall overtake;
84 Till age, or grief, or sickness must
85 Marry my body to that dust
86 It so much loves, and fill the room
87 My heart keeps empty in thy tomb.
88 Stay for me there, I will not fail
89 To meet thee in that hollow vale.
90 And think not much of my delay;
91 I am already on the way,
92 And follow thee with all the speed
93 Desire can make, or sorrows breed.
94 Each minute is a short degree,
95 And ev'ry hour a step towards thee.
96 At night when I betake to rest,
97 Next morn I rise nearer my west
98 Of life, almost by eight hours' sail,
99 Than when sleep breath'd his drowsy gale.
100 Thus from the sun my bottom steers,
101 And my day's compass downward bears;
102 Nor labour I to stem the tide
103 Through which to thee I swiftly glide.
104 'Tis true, with shame and grief I yield,
105 Thou like the van first took'st the field,
106 And gotten hath the victory
107 In thus adventuring to die
108 Before me, whose more years might crave
109 A just precedence in the grave.
110 But hark! my pulse like a soft drum
111 Beats my approach, tells thee I come;
112 And slow howe'er my marches be,
113 I shall at last sit down by thee.
114 The thought of this bids me go on,
115 And wait my dissolut{"i}on
116 With hope and comfort. Dear (forgive
117 The crime) I am content to live
118 Divided, with but half a heart,
119 Till we shall meet and never part.
poem by Henry King
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Resurrection, imperfect
Sleep sleep old Sun, thou canst not have repast
As yet, the wound thou took’st on friday last;
Sleep then, and rest; The world may bearer thy stay,
A better Sun rose before thee to day,
Who, not content to’englighten all that dwell
On the earths face, as thou, enlightned hell,
And made the darker fires languish in that vale,
As, at thy presence here, our fires grow pale.
Whose body having walk’d on earth, and now
Hasting to Heaven, would, that he might allow
Himself unto all stations, and fill all,
For these three days become a mineral;
He was all gold when he lay down, but rose
All tincture, and doth not alone dispose
Leaden and iron wills to good, but is
Of power to make even sinful flesh like his.
Had one of those, whose credulous piety
Thought, that a Soul one might discern and see
Go from a body,’at this sepulcher been,
And, issuing from the sheet, this body seen,
He would have justly thought this body a soul,
If not of any man, yet of the whole.
Desunt cætera
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Long Arm Of The Law
In cumberland kentucky
On a cool hot evening
Billy lay in love with marrianne
She was a rich judges daughter
He was a son of a miner
But that night their love was more than they could stand
The judge said to his daughter
That son of that coal miner
Is someone youll go hell to leave alone
She knew his dad so well
She knew she couldnt tell
But the truth was bound in show before too long
Their love had started growing on its own
You cant out run the long arm of the law
No, you cant out run the long arm of the law
Billy placed his hand on mary
And he felt the babys moving
Kissed her and said Ill see you when I can
The judge had made a promise
When he caught up with billy
Hed sent him far away from marianne
The whole town knew hed do it
Too many times hed proved it
To at least a hundred men behind the wall
Hed smiled behind that frown
And when he brought that gavel down
He called himself the long arm of the law
And hed set his mind on seeing billy fall
In a hot humid mine shack
A mid-white pulled the sheet back
And placed cool damp towel on marianne
Billys eyes were wide with wonder
From the spell he was under
When she placed the new born baby in his hands
He didnt hear the siren
Just a babys crying
That miracle of love was all he saw
When the door came crashing down
And billy turned around
He felt the heart and soul inside him fall
He stood face to face
With the long arm of the law
You cant out run the long arm of the law
No, you cant out run the long arm of the law
You can hide out for a while
He says with a smile
But you cant out run the long arm of the law
Seemed like everybody down in cumberland kentucky
Came out that day to see poor billys trial
The court was called to order
There sat the judges daughter
She looked so proud
Holding billys child
When they brought billy to him
The judge just look right thru him
As he held that holy Bible in his hand
And he smiled at his grandson
Then his eyes cut back to billy
And said I think this time
The law will understand
Son, I sentence you to live with marianne
You cant out run the long arm of the law
No, you cant out run the long arm of the law
He said to billy with a smile
I know you hide out for a while
Ah but you cant out run the long arm of the law
No you cant out run the long arm of the law
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death is sleep
The night does not weep
That it is about to die
When the Sun is about to rise,
Unaware of its rebirth though.
In my case I weep
That I am about to die
When the time comes
Despite the faith in rebirth.
Death is a long sleep.
Sleep is a short death.
Memory lives after the sleep
Memory dies after the death
01.04.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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