How Pansies Or Hearts-ease Came First
Frolic virgins once these were,
Overloving, living here;
Being here their ends denied
Ran for sweet-hearts mad, and died.
Love, in pity of their tears,
And their loss in blooming years,
For their restless here-spent hours,
Gave them hearts-ease turn'd to flowers.
poem by Robert Herrick
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To Groves
Ye silent shades, whose each tree here
Some relique of a saint doth wear;
Who for some sweet-heart's sake, did prove
The fire and martyrdom of Love:--
Here is the legend of those saints
That died for love, and their complaints;
Their wounded hearts, and names we find
Encarved upon the leaves and rind.
Give way, give way to me, who come
Scorch'd with the self-same martyrdom!
And have deserved as much, Love knows,
As to be canonized 'mongst those
Whose deeds and deaths here written are
Within your Greeny-kalendar.
--By all those virgins' fillets hung
Upon! your boughs, and requiems sung
For saints and souls departed hence,
Here honour'd still with frankincense;
By all those tears that have been shed,
As a drink-offering to the dead;
By all those true-love knots, that be
With mottoes carved on every tree;
By sweet Saint Phillis! pity me;
By dear Saint Iphis! and the rest
Of all those other saints now blest,
Me, me forsaken,--here admit
Among your myrtles to be writ;
That my poor name may have the glory
To live remember'd in your story.
poem by Robert Herrick
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The Day Old Shep Died
it's been thirty years,
that he's been gone,
the day he died, brought tears,
all day, i played his song.
for nine long years,
i loved him and he loved me,
the day he died, broght tears,
toward the end, he could barely see.
when he died, i was seventeen years,
my child hood died that day,
the day he died, brought tears,
during his youth, we were always at play.
him and i was, so close in years,
when i got shep he was five and i eight,
the day he died brought tears,
he always ate his meals, off our plate.
he died at eighty-four in human years,
he lived to a ripe old age,
the day he died brought tears,
for this poem, he set the stage.
i can't believe, its been so many years,
i think about him, all the time,
the day he died, brought tears,
but old shep, was all mind.
of all these many years,
no dog has taken the place of old shep,
the day he died, brought tears,
i'll always remember, that dog with pep
in memory of old shep 1946-1960 written june 21,1990
That Pity B-Gone!
Let that pity b-gone!
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
And also going are those benefits.
If you carry on...
Like you can't handle it!
Let that pity b-gone!
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
And also going are those benefits.
If you carry on...
Like you can't handle it!
We knew that pity had to split!
B-gone.
We knew that our hearts would split, and soon...
B-gone.
If we let that pity sit,
Between us....
Both of us would have a fit.
If we let that pity sit,
Both of us would have a fit.
If we let that pity sit...
Between us!
And...
You'd believe,
That I could never love you.
To leave me feeling sorry,
And blue.
But...
I would know,
How deep inside my love goes.
And protecting what I love,
Before it overflows.
Let that pity b-gone!
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
And also going are those benefits.
If you carry on...
Like you can't handle it!
So...
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
And maybe not so much the benefits.
Since I would miss too much your many moods.
That pity b-gone.
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Blood relation is a myth
Mother died young; who will bring me up?
Tears flowed..
Mother died old; a great relief so soon.
No tears.
Sister died young; who will bring her kids up?
Pity flowed.
Sister died away, having eloped with a man.
No pity.
Blood relation must be burdensome.
25.12.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Movement of the Saints
In their minds they bear the loss,
silently written in their hearts
Boldly written the loss.
What else can they say?
After all they have,
all that seemed right
they still cannot behold
that which Life could not uphold
It is in their place to cry,
Tears for tears every passing day
for that which they adore is no more
So heavily wounded they are.
The journey has began,
In a white silk, he moves.
With his feet off the Earth he goes.
In a peacful acceleration.
For you deeds will open the way
As the hearts weep here on earth,
your soul will dwell peacfully in Heaven.
Movement into his Glory.
May your soul rest in perfect peace
poem by Jackson Nyoho
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The Difference
Had Henley died, his course half run—
Had Henley died, and Stevenson
Been left on earth, of him to write,
He would have chosen to indite
His name in generous phrase—or none.
No envious humor, cold and dun,
Had marred the vesture he had spun,
All luminous, to clothe his knight—
Had Henley died!
Ah, well! at rest—poor Stevenson!—
Safe in our hearts his place is won.
There love shall still his love requite,
His faults divinely veiled from sight,
Whose tears had fallen in benison,
Had Henley died!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To Olinthus Gregory, On Hearing Of The Death Of His Eldest Son, Who Was Drowned As He Was Returning By Water To His Father’s House At Woolrich
IS there a spot where Pity's foot,
Although unsandalled, fears to tread,
A silence where her voice is mute,
Where tears, and only tears, are shed?
It is the desolated home
Where Hope was yet a recent guest,
Where Hope again may never come,
Or come, and only speak of rest.
They gave my hand the pictured scroll,
And bade me only fancy there
A parent's agony of soul,
A parent's long and last despair;
The sunshine on the sudden wave,
Which closed above the youthful head,
Mocking the green and quiet grave,
Which waits the time-appointed dead.
I thought upon the lone fire-side,
Begirt with all familiar thought,
The future, where a father's pride
So much from present promise wrought:
The sweet anxiety of fears,
Anxious from love's excess alone,
The fond reliance upon years
More precious to us than our own:
All past—then weeping words there came
From out a still and darkened room,
They could not bear to name a name
Written so newly on the tomb.
They said he was so good and kind,
The voices sank, the eyes grew dim;
So much of love he left behind,
So much of life had died with him.
Ah, pity for the long beloved,
Ah, pity for the early dead;
The young, the promising, removed
Ere life a light or leaf had shed.
Nay, rather pity those whose doom
It is to wait and weep behind,
The father, who within the tomb
Sees all life held most dear enshrined.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Blooming
Spring already
Flowers blooming
Birds humming
Sing their sweet
Sweet song
The air
Full of blossoms
Blooming flowers..
Blooming plants…
Blooming love
Spring is clean..
Spring is fresh…
Spring is that new beginning
We pray for in the end
poem by Alexsis Daniels
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Isn't It A Pity
Isn't it a pity
Isn't it a shame
How we break each other's hearts
And cause each other pain
How we take each other's love
Without thinking anymore
Forgetting to give back
Isn't it a pity
Some things take so long
But how do i explain
When not too many people
Can see we're all the same
And because of all their tears
Your eyes can't hope to see
The beauty that surrounds them
Now, isn't it a pity
Isn't it a pity, (oh-o)
Now, isn't is a shame
How we break each other's hearts
And cause each other pain
How we take each other's love
Without thinking anymore
Forgetting to give back
Now, isn't it a pity
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rondel
THESE many years since we began to be,
What have the gods done with us? what with me,
What with my love? they have shown me fates and fears,
Harsh springs, and fountains bitterer than the sea,
Grief a fixed star, and joy a vane that veers,
These many years.
With her, my love, with her have they done well?
But who shall answer for her? who shall tell
Sweet things or sad, such things as no man hears?
May no tears fall, if no tears ever fell,
From eyes more dear to me than starriest spheres
These many years!
But if tears ever touched, for any grief,
Those eyelids folded like a white-rose leaf,
Deep double shells wherethrough the eye-flower peers,
Let them weep once more only, sweet and brief,
Brief tears and bright, for one who gave her tears
These many years.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Can't Denied
things like a kiss i just can't denied
no matter how far we are
how angry we are
but once we touch
we just can't denied
the way we are holding
touching each other
kissing each other
your world is my life
your kiss is my drug
baby, how can't you see that i love you
why can't you see the love i have for you
i just can't denied your kiss
the look of your eyes
when i look through
i see crystals
i just can't denied
i tried
but tears fall from my eyes
can't denied
poem by Guenael Oristel
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Loss Of...
Loss it seems is the worst kind of sorrow
Loss of dreams, the dreams of tomorrow
Loss of the moments you two should have shared
Loss of opportunities to show her you cared
Loss of the memories you both could have created
Loss of the romance once intense as you dated
Loss of a kiss, caress, or embrace
Loss of that special feeling no one else can replace
Loss of a look, the twinkle in her eye
Loss of the touch as you pass each other by
Loss of a future, from a past of regret
Loss of a last chance, how many do you get
Loss of a promise you never meant to break
Loss of two hearts that forever will ache
(2012)
poem by Michael Ernst
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Loss Lost in Thought
Loss of love from your partner in soul:
A.k.a. jilt;
Loss of love from your bygones of souls:
A.k.a. mourning;
Loss of love which came from a dearth
Of love through rescinding love:
A.k.a. hatred;
Love to science in analysis be
Secretion of oxytocin in association
With an entity that leads to bonding - so boring:
A.k.a. must all suffer scientific explanation?
Loss of love, a catastrophe, nay!
So love, nurture love, and be loved!
Loss of nature from dear Mother Earth:
A.k.a. destruction;
Loss of greed in material world:
A.k.a. always opportunity for altruism;
Loss of kindness and pity and all:
A.k.a. human nature has dark undertones;
Loss of ego and fire of desire:
A.k.a. loss may be good in consequence;
Loss of responsibility; humility:
A.k.a. loss may be unnerving.
Loss of Homo sapiens:
A.k.a. demise of the flawed primate - pinnacle of Darwinism - equates to
No art; music; poetry; debate, and
Everything innate ornate of human!
So concentrate please, on bliss of this.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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I Know I Have Been Happiest
I know I have been happiest at your side;
But what is done, is done, and all's to be.
And small the good, to linger dolefully-
Gayly it lived, and gallantly it died.
I will not make you songs of hearts denied,
And you, being man, would have no tears of me,
And should I offer you fidelity,
You'd be, I think, a little terrified.
Yet this the need of woman, this her curse:
To range her little gifts, and give, and give,
Because the throb of giving's sweet to bear.
To you, who never begged me vows or verse,
My gift shall be my absence, while I live;
But after that, my dear, I cannot swear.
poem by Dorothy Parker
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It Is Always a Loss When A Friend Is Gone
Brother Jackson died a few moons ago. It is a loss.
It is a finale; it is the final curtain.
Everyday is a loss, tomorrow is uncertain.
Take several deep breaths, do as many toasts
That your heart and soul desire.
Stare at the moon, walk in the sun, play in the rain, and admire
The trees, the plants, the leaves and the flowers.
Smile with, wave at, and chat with your neighbors.
Everyday is a loss; sweet moments move quicker than the thieves
Of Penzance. Appreciate and enjoy every second of the day.
The Cardiologist is in jail; it is a loss
For our community. There no winners,
Only losers. Life is short and precious.
Enjoy the plains, the mounts, the valleys and the rivers;
Never be vindictive and malicious.
It is always a loss, when you examine it deeply.
There are no winners, only losers.
Smile with, wave at and forgive your neighbors.
It is always a loss! Pray for Brother Jackson, and have pity
On the adversaries. Enjoy and appreciate every second of the day.
Smoking Joe Frazier, a great boxer, recently passed away.
Steve Jobs, a genius, died; so did Andy Rooney.
It is always a loss, when you examine it deeply.
Don’t stop praying for our friends, foes and brothers everyday.
Smile, laugh and enjoy every second of the day.
poem by Hebert Logerie (07 November 2011)
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My Sister, Lost and Found
I had a sister for seventeen years,
She went missing, many tears,
We wondered what she was up to,
We didn't know she was forced to,
By her sick boyfriend,
This abusive boyfriend,
He controlled her every move,
Kept her weak, there's no prove.
When father died, the saddest truth,
When father died, the loss of youth,
Broken spell of the gnome,
Born again, little sister calls home
Father's prayers were heard,
Sad, No father's love, this lost bird,
But mother's love still remain,
To cut through the years of pain,
Her journey on trust has just begun,
My sister, has returned to the sun.
Copyright Philo Yan August 25,2012
Kings & Queens
Long ago in days untoled
Were ruled by lords of greed
Maidens fair, with gold they dared
To bare their wombs that bleed
Kings and queens and guillotines
Taking lives denied
Starch and parchments laid the laws
When bishops took the ride
Only to decieve
Oh I know i
Lived this life before
Somehow I know now
Truths I must be sure
Tossin turnin, nightmares brunin
Dreams of swords in hand
Sailing ships, the viking spits
The blood of fathers land
Only to decieve
Living times of knights and mares
Raising swords for maidens fair
Sneer at death, fear only loss of pride
Living other centuries
Deja v? or what you please
Follows true to all who do or die
Screams of no reply
They died
Screams of no reply
And died
Lordy, lordy, they died
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tourtured Child
Tortured child sitting on the window pane
Innocent boy, hurt through inner pain
Bleeding arms cut by serrated knives
Ends in the loss of more innocent lives
Bruised little girl sleeping in her little bed
While she lies she wonders in her head
“Why did he touch me? Why all the lies? ”
Ends in the loss of more innocent lives
Young lonely girl sitting in her chair
All alone crying in her lair
Hanging from the rope as her friend cries
Ends in the loss of more innocent lives
Beautiful little girl covered with tears
Down the stairs lie all her fears
Though she cries she sits alone
Her beatings sting, straight to the bone
She refuses to scream and yet she cries
Ends in the loss of more innocent lives
Black crows sitting on the branches crying out
Dark clouds hovering about like the veins of God
Children screaming like
There is no hope of salvation
Trees swaying in the breeze like life
It keeps going without a care
poem by Melanie Hannon
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To Beatrice Stuart--Wortley Ætat
Patter, patter, little feet,
Making music quaint and sweet,
Up the passage, down the stair;
Patter, patter everywhere.
Ripple, ripple, little voice;
When I hear you, I rejoice.
When you cease to crow and coo,
Then my heart grows silent too.
Frolic, frolic, little form,
While the day is young and warm.
When the shadows shun the west,
Climb up to my knee, and rest.
Slumber, slumber, little head,
Gambols o'er and night-prayers said.
I will give you in your cot
Kisses that awake you not.
Open, open, little lids!
Lambs are frisking in the meads;
Blackcaps flit from stem to stem;
Come and chirp along with them.
Change not, change not, little fay;
Still be as you are to-day.
What a loss is growth of sense,
With decrease of innocence!
Something in your little ways
Wins me more than love or praise.
You have gone, and I feel still
Void I somehow cannot fill.
Yes, you leave, when you depart,
Empty cradle in my heart,
Where I sit and rock my pain,
Singing lullaby in vain.
Come back, come back, little feet!
Bring again the music sweet
To the garden, to the stair;
Patter, chatter everywhere.
poem by Alfred Austin
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Elmer Karr
What but the love of God could have softened
And made forgiving the people of Spoon River
Toward me who wronged the bed of Thomas Merritt
And murdered him beside?
Oh, loving hearts that took me in again
When I returned from fourteen years in prison!
Oh, helping hands that in the church received me,
And heard with tears my penitent confession,
Who took the sacrament of bread and wine!
Repent, ye living ones, and rest with Jesus.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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