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The Bad Season Makes The Poet Sad

Dull to myself, and almost dead to these,
My many fresh and fragrant mistresses;
Lost to all music now, since every thing
Puts on the semblance here of sorrowing.
Sick is the land to th' heart; and doth endure
More dangerous faintings by her desperate cure.
But if that golden age would come again,
And Charles here rule, as he before did reign;
If smooth and unperplex'd the seasons were,
As when the sweet Maria lived here;
I should delight to have my curls half drown'd
In Tyrian dews, and head with roses crown'd:
And once more yet, ere I am laid out dead,
Knock at a star with my exalted head.

poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Roses In Madrid

Roses, Senors, roses!
Love is subtly hid
In the fragrant roses,
Blown in gay Madrid.
Roses, Senors, roses!
Look, look, look, and see
Love hanging in the roses,
Like a golden bee!
Ha! ha! shake the roses--
Hold a palm below;
Shake him from the roses,
Catch the vagrant so!

High I toss the roses
From my brown palm up;
Like the wine that bubbles
From a golden cup.
Catch the roses, Senors,
Light on finger tips;
He who buys red roses,
Dreams of crimson lips!
Tinkle! my fresh roses,
With the rare dews wet;
Clink! my crisp, red roses,
Like a castanet!

Roses, Senors, roses,
Come, Hidalgo, buy!
Proudly wait my roses
For thy rose's eye
Be thy rose as stately
As a pacing deer;
Worthy are my roses
To burn behind her ear.
Ha I ha! I can see thee,
Where the fountains foam,
Twining my red roses
In her golden comb!

Roses, Donnas, roses,
None so fresh as mine,
Pluck'd at rose of morning
By our Lady's shrine.
Those that first I gather'd
Laid I at her feet,
That is why my roses
Still are fresh and sweet.
Roses, Donnas, roses!
Roses waxen fair!
Acolytes my roses,
Censing ladies' pray'r!

Roses, roses, roses!
Hear the tawny bull
Thund'ring in the circus--
Buy your arms full.
Roses by the dozen!
Roses by the score!
Pelt the victor with them--
Bull or Toreador!

poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Telling the Bees: (For Edward Tennant)

Tell it to the bees, lest they
Umbrage take and fly away,
That the dearest boy is dead,
Who went singing, blithe and dear,
By the golden hives last year.
Curly-head, ah, curly-head!

Tell them that the summer's over,
Over mignonette and clover;
Oh, speak low and very low!
Say that he was blithe and bonny,
Good as gold and sweet as honey,
All too late the roses blow!

Say he will not come again,
Not in any sun or rain,
Heart's delight, ah, heart's delight!
Tell them that the boy they knew
Sleeps out under rain and dew
In the night, ah, in the night!

poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Maria's Bed

Been on a barbed wire highway 40 days and nights
I ain't complainin', it's my job and it suits me right
I got a sweet soft fever rushin' around my head
I'm gonna sleep tonight in Maria's bed
Got on a dead man suit and smilin' skull ring
Lucky graveyard boots and a song to sing
I keep my heart in my work but trouble's in my head
And I keep my soul in Maria's bed
I been up on sugar mountain, cross the sweet blue seas
I walked the valley of love and tears and mystery
I got run out'a luck and give myself up for dead
And I drank the cool clear waters from Maria's bed
She give me candy stick kisses 'neath a wolf dog moon
One sweet breath and she'll take you mister to the upper room
I was burned by the angels, sold wings of lead
Then I fell in the roses and sweet salvation of Maria's bed
I been out in the desert yeah doin' my time
Searchin' through the dust for fools gold, lookin' for a sign
Holy man said "hold on brother there's a light up ahead"
Ain't nothing like a light that shines on me in Maria's bed
Well I'll take my blessings at the riverhead
I'm living in the light of Maria's bed

song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Knock em Dead Kid

In the heat of the night
You went and blackened my eyes
Well now Im back
Im back
Im back
And Im coming your way
Well now Im supercharged
Might just explode in your face
Im black
Im black
Im black
And Im primed for hate
(chorus)
Knock em dead, kid
(knock em dead)
Knock em dead, kid
(knock em dead)
The blade is red, kid
(knock em dead)
Knock em dead, kid
Knock em dead
A star-spangled fight
Heard a steel-belted scream
Now Im black, Im black, Im black
Another sidewalks bloody dream
I heard the sirens whine
My blood turned to freeze
Youll see the red in my eyes
As you take my disease
(chorus)(solo)(chorus)
Knock em knock em knock em
Dead...(scream)
Knock em dead kid

song performed by by Motley Crue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sick of Being Sick

I’m sick of being rejected;
I’m sick of being emotionally neglected;
I’m sick of crying so many tears;
I’m sick of running away from my fears;
I’m sick of my childhood nightmares;
I’m sick of being told to do those stupid dares;
I’m sick of not having friends;
I’m sick of all these dead ends;
I’m sick of myself for what I’ve become;
I’m sick of feeling oh so numb;
I’m sick of watching myself drown;
I’m sick of my heart falling to the ground;
I’m sick of this life;
I’m sick of this everyday strife;
I’m sick of not having a dad;
I’m sick of getting mad;
I’m sick of my childhood past;
I’m sick of being harassed;
I’m sick of the dread;
I’m sick of wanting to be dead;
I’m sick of being the one who’s always so strong;
I’m sick of being somebody that doesn’t belong! !

poem by Shelby Brockway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Lost My Crown

The day I lost my mind
Was the day you left for good
All the love that was left behind
Wouldn’t bring you back if it could
I lost my reign
I lost my crown
All I have left is a kingdom of pain
Where I lost more than I found
I can’t seem to understand
Why you loved me less
It wasn’t part of the plan
To make my heart a royal mess
I lost my reign
I lost my crown
All my dreams are shattered
All my treasures don’t shine anymore
I can’t believe I never mattered
All I can hear is the slamming of the door
I lost my reign
I lost my crown
Don’t need any riches where I’m bound
Tears will fill my throne till I drown

poem by Alfred Ramos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Aaron

Holiness on the head,
Light and perfection on the breast,
Harmonious bells below, raising the dead
To led them unto life and rest.
Thus are true Aarons dressed.

Profaneness in my head,
Defects and darkness in my breast,
A noise of passions ringing me for dead
Unto a place where is no rest.
Poor priest thus am I dressed.

Only another head
I have, another heart and breast,
another music, making live not dead,
without whom I could have no rest:
In him I am well dressed.

Christ is my only head,
My alone only heart and breast,
My only music, striking me even dead;
That to the old man I may rest,
And be in him new dressed.

So holy in my head,
Perfect and light in my dear breast,
My doctrine tuned by Christ, (who is not dead,
But lives in me while I do rest)
Come people; Aaron's dressed.

poem by George Herbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cant Get It Out Of My Head

By elo, as performed by fountains of wayne
Midnight, on the water
I saw the oceans daughter
Walking on a wave she came
Staring as she called my name.
And I cant get it out of my head
No, I cant get it out of my head
Now my whole world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head.
Breakdown, on the shoreline
Cant move, its an ebb tide
Morning dont get here tonight
Searching for her silver light.
And I cant get it out of my head
No, I cant get it out of my head
Now my whole world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head, oh no
Day job, in the city
Robin hood & william tell & ivanhoe & lancelot
They dont envy me
Sitting as the sun goes down
In dreams the world keeps spinning round & around
And I cant get it out of my head
No, I cant get it out of my head
Now my whole world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head.
No, I cant get it out of my head
No, I cant get it out of my head
Now my whole world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head, oh no

song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Miranda’s Tomb

MIRANDA? She died soon, and sick for home.
And dark Ilario the Milanese
Carved her in garments 'scutcheoned to the knees,
Holding one orchard-spray as fresh as foam.
One heart broke, many grieved. Ilario said:
'The summer is gone after her. Who knows
If any season shall renew his rose?
But this rose lives till Beauty's self be dead.'
So wrought he, days and years, and half aware
Of a small, striving, sorrowing quick thing,
Wrapped in a furred sea-cloak, and deft to bring
Tools to his hand or light to the dull air.
Ghost, spirit, flame, he knew not,–could but tell
It had loved her, and its name was Ariel.

poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After Looking into Carlyles Reminiscences

THREE MEN lived yet when this dead man was young
Whose names and words endure for ever one:
Whose eyes grew dim with straining toward the sun,
And his wings weakened, and his angel’s tongue
Lost half the sweetest song was ever sung,
But like the strain half uttered earth hears none,
Nor shall man hear till all men’s songs are done:
One whose clear spirit like an eagle hung
Between the mountains hallowed by his love
And the sky stainless as his soul above:
And one the sweetest heart that ever spake
The brightest words wherein sweet wisdom smiled.
These deathless names by this dead snake denied
Bid memory spit upon him for their sake.

II.

Sweet heart, forgive me for thine own sweet sake,
Whose kind blithe soul such seas of sorrow swam,
And for my love’s sake, powerless as I am
For love to praise thee, or like thee to make
Music of mirth where hearts less pure would break,
Less pure than thine, our life-unspotted Lamb.
Things hatefullest thou hadst not heart to damn,
Nor wouldst have set thine heel on this dead snake.
Let worms consume its memory with its tongue,
The fang that stabbed fair Truth, the lip that stung
Men’s memories uncorroded with its breath.
Forgive me, that with bitter words like his
I mix the gentlest English name that is,
The tenderest held of all that know not death.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anacreontics, The Epicure

UNDERNEATH this myrtle shade,
On flowerly beds supinely laid,
With odorous oils my head o'erflowing,
And around it roses growing,
What should I do but drink away
The heat and troubles of the day?
In this more than kingly state
Love himself on me shall wait.
Fill to me, Love! nay, fill it up!
And mingled cast into the cup
Wit and mirth and noble fires,
Vigorous health and gay desires.
The wheel of life no less will stay
In a smooth than rugged way:
Since it equally doth flee,
Let the motion pleasant be.
Why do we precious ointments shower?--
Nobler wines why do we pour?--
Beauteous flowers why do we spread
Upon the monuments of the dead?
Nothing they but dust can show,
Or bones that hasten to be so.
Crown me with roses while I live,
Now your wines and ointments give:
After death I nothing crave,
Let me alive my pleasures have:
All are Stoics in the grave.

poem by Abraham Cowley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Surfers Rule

Its a genuine fact that the surfers rule
Its plastered on the walls all around the school now
(surfers rule, surfers rule)
Becoming just as common as a golden rule now
(surfers rule, surfers rule)
Take it or leave it but you better believe it
Surfers rule
They burnt it in the grass on the football field now
(surfers rule, surfers rule)
Just try to make them cool it and theyll never yield now
(surfers rule, surfers rule)
Take what youve heard now and go pass the word now
Surfers rule
Its a genuine fact that the surfers rule
A woody full of surfers pullin long side a wagon
(surfers rule, surfers rule)
The hodaddies sittin while the surfers are draggin
The surfers are winnin and they say as theyre grinnin
Surfers rule
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)
Surfers rule
(four seasons you better believe it)

song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cant Get It Out Of My Head

Midnight on the water.
I saw the oceans daughter.
Walking on a waves chicane,
Staring as she called my name.
And I cant get it out of my head,
No, I cant get it out of my head.
Now my old world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head.
Breakdown on the shoreline,
Cant move, its an ebbtide.
Morning dont get here till night,
Searching for her silver light.
And I cant get it out of my head,
No, I cant get it out of my head.
Now my old world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head, no no.
Bank job in the city.
Robin hood and william tell and ivanhoe and lancelot, they dont envy me.
Sitting till the sun goes down,
In dreams the world keep going round and round.
And I cant get it out of my head,
No, I cant get it out of my head.
Now my old world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head, no no.
No, I cant get it out of my head,
No, I cant get it out of my head.
Now my old world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head, no no no no.

song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Devo Has Feelings Too

Young hunks
Cyberpunks
And sweet things
Trying hard to change your luck
Baby thugs
Bad spuds
And mean things
Living for today or maybe even yesterday
Look around
Shakey ground
Do the right thing
In this world youre just a guest
Do it now
Times run out for the pig thing
Living for today stealing from tomorrow
Law and order puppets remote-controlled by greed
And tv preacher robots wont give you what you need
Use your head
Sidestep the traps
Snake through the chaos with a smooth noodle map
Besides the kings been dead
They blew off his head in 63
Big bucks
Energy sucks
And dumb things
Make it hard to live and breathe
Add it up
No matter what
Theres one thing
Living for today theres maybe no tomorrow
Subhuman bloodless leaders fed on lies and fear
And tv anchor news teams trim all we see and hear
Use your head
Sidestep the traps
Snake through the chaos with a smooth noodle map
Besides God isnt dead
Hes in your head
Right where he ought to be

song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Can You Hear Them?

So sick and tired of living
And so afraid to die
I've lived so many lives
And still I wonder why
The way the world perceives me
Is not the way I am
The one half thinks I'm crazy
The other thinks I'm mad

I spent a long long time alone in my room
I need your help to get me out of this gloom

Can you hear them
All the voices in my head
They freak me out
Can you hear them
They won't be happy 'till I'm dead
They freak me out

Ten thousand million nightmares
Temptation by the score
I used to get so high
And still I wanted more
You think my time is wasted
In search of who I am
I tried to so hard to kill
The boy inside the man

I spent a thousand years one night in my room
I've lived so many lives and that is my doom

Can you hear them
All the voices in my head
They freak me out
Can you hear them
They won't be happy 'till I'm dead
They freak me out

I never thought I'd smile again
Always thought I'd be here on my own
Sometimes when I'm down
You come and save me again
And again
And again
And again

I'll never understand it
It makes no sense at all
Just look at what I've done
It's time to count the score

I've spent a long long time alone in my room
I need your help to get me out of this gloom

Can you hear them
All the voices in my head
They freak me out
Can you hear them
They won't be happy 'till I'm dead
They freak me out

song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne from Down To Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The light's in my head - Villanelle

There's a light in the sickroom that never goes dead,
Though daylight is dimming, through the still open curtain-
But the light's in my head; the light's in my head!

He lies in a stupor, but calls out from his bed;
And he never complains, but you fear that he's hurting-
There's a light in the sickroom that never goes dead.

She doesn't sleep nights, but sleeps daytimes instead;
Her breathing's still even, but death's near for certain-
But the light's in my head; the light's in my head!

First they said stroke, and then heart attack- dread!
With the new diagnosis, with death he is flirting-
There's a light in the sickroom that never goes dead.

There's cancer and heart disease, so lightly we tread;
It's bad news for sure- her aneurysm bursting! -
But the light's in my head; the light's in my head!

It's all here inside me now, all that I've said,
Now what's left in memory's darkness, I'm cursing;
There's a light in the sickroom that never goes dead-
And the light's in my head- the light's in my head!

poem by Patti Masterman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Violets

SENT IN A LITTLE BOX.

LET them lie, yes, let them lie,
They'll be dead to-morrow:
Lift the lid up quietly
As you'd lift the mystery
Of a shrouded sorrow.

Let them lie, the fragrant things,
Their sweet souls thus giving:
Let no breezes' ambient wings,
And no useless water-springs
Lure them into living.

They have lived--they live no more:
Nothing can requite them
For the gentle life they bore
And up-yielded in full store
While it did delight them.

Yet, poor flowers, not sad to die
In the hand that slew ye,
Did ye leave the open sky,
And the winds that wandered by,
And the bees that knew ye.

Giving up a small earth place,
And a day of blooming,
Here to lie in narrow space,
Smiling in this sickly face,
This dull air perfuming?

O my pretty violets dead,
Coffined from all gazes,
We will also smiling shed
Out of our flowers witherèd,
Perfume of sweet praises.

And as ye, for this poor sake,
Love with life are buying,
So, I doubt not, ONE will make
All our gathered flowers to take
Richer scent through dying.

poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Burial of Sarah

He stood before the sons of Heth,
And bowed his sorrowing head;
"I've come," he said, "to buy a place
Where I may lay my dead.

"I am a stranger in your land,
My home has lost its light;
Grant me a place where I may lay
My dead away from sight."

Then tenderly the sons of Heth
Gazed on the mourner's face,
And said, "Oh, Prince, amid our dead,
Choose thou her resting-place.

"The sepulchres of those we love,
We place at thy command;
Against the plea thy grief hath made
We close not heart nor hand."

The patriarch rose and bowed his head,
And said, "One place I crave;
'Tis at the end of Ephron's field,
And called Machpelah's cave.

"Entreat him that he sell to me
For her last sleep that cave;
I do not ask for her I loved
The freedom of a grave."

The son of Zohar answered him,
"Hearken, my lord, to me;
Before our sons, the field and cave
I freely give to thee."

"I will not take it as a gift,"
The grand old man then said;
"I pray thee let me buy the place
Where I may lay my dead."

And with the promise in his heart,
His seed should own that land,
He gave the shekels for the field
He took from Ephron's hand.

And saw afar the glorious day
His chosen seed should tread,
The soil where he in sorrow lay
His loved and cherished dead.

poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All Dead, All Dead

Memories, my memories
How long can you stay
To haunt my days
She came without a farthing
A babe without a name
So much ado about nothing
Is what shed try to say
So much ado my lover
So many games we played
Through every fleeted summer
Through every precious day
All dead all dead
All the dreams we had
And I wonder why I still live on
All dead all dead
And alone Im spared
My sweeter half instead
All dead
And gone
All dead...
All dead all dead
At the rainbows end
And still I hear her own sweet song
All dead all dead
Take me back again
You know my little friends
All dead
And gone
All dead and gone
Her ways are always with me
I wander all the while
But please you must forgive me
I am old but still a child
All dead all dead
But I should not grieve
In time it comes to everyone
All dead all dead
But in hope I breathe
Of course I dont believe
Youre dead
And gone
All dead
And gone

song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Bad Season Makes The Poet Sad

Related quotes

Roses In Madrid

Telling the Bees: (For Edward Tennant)

Maria's Bed

Knock em Dead Kid

Dead Rock Star

Sick of Being Sick

I Lost My Crown

Aaron

Cant Get It Out Of My Head

Miranda’s Tomb

After Looking into Carlyles Reminiscences

Anacreontics, The Epicure

Surfers Rule

Cant Get It Out Of My Head

Devo Has Feelings Too

Can You Hear Them?

The light's in my head - Villanelle

Violets

Burial of Sarah

All Dead, All Dead

En.Citatepedia®.ro

The Bad Season Makes The Poet Sad

Related quotes

Roses In Madrid

Telling the Bees: (For Edward Tennant)

Maria's Bed

Knock em Dead Kid

Dead Rock Star

Sick of Being Sick

I Lost My Crown

Aaron

Cant Get It Out Of My Head

Miranda’s Tomb

After Looking into Carlyles Reminiscences

Anacreontics, The Epicure

Surfers Rule

Cant Get It Out Of My Head

Devo Has Feelings Too

Can You Hear Them?

The light's in my head - Villanelle

Violets

Burial of Sarah

All Dead, All Dead

En.Citatepedia^®.ro