Sensibility
I
Once, when a boy, I killed a cat.
I guess it's just because of that
A cat evokes my tenderness,
And takes so kindly my caress.
For with a rich, resonant purr
It sleeks an arch or ardent fur
So vibrantly against my shin;
And as I tickle tilted chin
And rub the roots of velvet ears
Its tail in undulation rears.
Then tremoring with all its might,
In blissful sensuous delight,
It looks aloft with lambent eyes,
Mystic, Egyptianly wise,
And O so eloquently tries
In every fibre to express
Consummate trust and friendliness.
II
I think the longer that we live
The more do we grow sensitive
Of hurt and harm to man and beast,
And learn to suffer at the least
Surmise of other's suffering;
Till pity, lie an eager spring
Wells up, and we are over-fain
To vibrate to the chords of pain.
For look you - after three-score yeas
I see with anguish nigh to tears
That starveling cat so sudden still
I set my terrier to to kill.
Great, golden memories pale away,
But that unto my dying day
Will haunt and haunt me horribly.
Why, even my poor dog felt shame
And shrank away as if to blame
of that poor mangled mother-cat
Would ever lie at his doormat.
III
What's done is done. No power can bring
To living joy a slaughtered thing.
Aye, if of life I gave my own
I could not for my guilt atone.
And though in stress of sea and land
Sweet breath has ended at my hand,
That boyhood killing in my eyes
A thousand must epitomize.
Yet to my twilight steals a thought:
Somehow forgiveness may be bought;
Somewhere I'll live my life again
So finely sensitized to pain,
With heart so rhymed to truth and right
That Truth will be a blaze of light;
All all the evil I have wrought
Will haggardly to home be brought. . . .
Then will I know my hell indeed,
And bleed where I made others bleed,
Till purged by penitence of sin
To Peace (or Heaven) I may win.
Well, anyway, you know the why
We are so pally, cats and I;
So if you have the gift of shame,
O Fellow-sinner, be the same.
poem by Robert William Service
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Related quotes
Remorse
That scathing word I used in scorn
(Though half a century ago)
Comes back to me this April morn,
Like boomerang to work me woe;
Comes back to me with bitter blame
(Though apple boughs are blossoming),
And oh! the anguish of my shame
Is sharper than a serpent's sting!
Age sensitizes us to pain,
And when remembrance of some word
We spoke in wrath return again,
It stab is like a driven sword. . . .
And if in some celestial span
Our hearts in penitence may bleed
For all the hurt we've done to man -
Ah, that would be a hell indeed!
So friends, be careful of your words,
Though other breasts may meet their steel,
Lest they return like vengeful swords,
Till yours the wounds that never heal,
For Age the heart to mercy mellows;
Foul memories haunt like evil elves:
let us be gentle to our fellows,
And win God's mercy for ourselves.
poem by Robert William Service
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An Exile's Death
Of what does this poor exile dream?
His garden plot, his dewy mead,
Perchance his tools, perchance his team,—
But ever of murdered France indeed;
Her memory makes his sad heart bleed.
While those that slew her clutch their pay,
The exile pleads with bitter cry:
One cannot live with bread away;
Afar from home, one's fain—how fain!—to die.
The workman sees his workshop still,
And the poor peasant his loved cot;
Sweet homely flowers on the window-sill,
Or the bright hearth (when flowers bloom not)
Smiling on all things unforgot,—
E'en flickering on that nook whence aye
His grandmam's bed erst met his eye.
One cannot live with bread away;
Afar from home, one's fain—how fain!—to die.
In springtime swarm the honey bees;
Pert sparrows, quick heaven's gifts to share.
Blithe 'mong the barley crop one sees;
Sad little rogues, sans though, or care
They rob, as though they eagles were.
An old-world chateau, ivied, grey,
Crumbles the snug farmstead anigh.
One cannot live with bread away;
Afar from home, one's fain—how fain!—to die.
With file and mallet one can live
And keep one's wife and youngster's bright;
One works from faintest dawn till eve,
And in the toil finds true delight.
O sacred labour! life and light!
Our fathers toiled till, wearied, they
Resigned the tools with a smile or sigh.
One cannot live with bread away;
Afar from home, one's fain—how fain!—to die.
On holidays, the artisan,
His tools and cares all cheerily stowing,
Singing brave songs which bless or ban,
Cap jaunty on brow, blouse loosely flowing,
Forth to some festal haunt is going.
One eats a rabbit (so they say!)
And quaffs sour wine of Hungary.
One cannot live with bread away;
Afar from home, one's fain—how fain!—to die.
On Sundays aye the peasant strong
Sings out for Jeanne or Jacqueline:
'Now sweetheart, quickly come along,—
I warrant me, with ribbons fine,—
To dance on the hill till stars bright shine.'
The sabot hath a tricksy way
Of making music in July.
One cannot live with bread away;
Afar from home, one's fain—how fain!—to die.
Mournfully aye the exiles muse,
With spirit,—alas! nigh broken down.
Still they regard the darkling yews
That on green peaceful graves still frown.
One dreams of Germany, and one
Of poor bruised Poland, hapless prey,
And one of beauteous Italy.
One cannot live with bread away;
Afar from home, one's fain—how fain!—to die.
An exile, tired of hopeless pain,
Lay dying; calm, scarce sad, looked he.
'Why die?' I gently asked him then.
He answered, 'Is life sweet to thee?'
Then smiled, 'I shall at length be free!
Farewell, I die. O France, for aye
Thee shall the tyrant crucify?'
One cannot live with bread away;
Afar from home, one's fain—how fain!—to die.
'I die because I see no longer
The fields, erewhile the world to me.
I die, because I hear no longer
The birds, my whole world's melody.
My soul is where I cannot be.
'Twixt four rough planks my body lay,
And bury me,—I care not, I!'
One cannot live with bread away;
Afar from home, one's fain—how fain!—to die.
poem by Victor Hugo
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Transperancy
I see your tears even when you don't cry infront of me
I hear your pain like tear drops falling inside of you
Let me in, so I can try to fix you
I'll bleed your pain and repair every damaged tissue
You say you fine, but your eyes tell me a different story
You living a disguise trapped in hell although you are holy
You are emotionally scard, pain tattoed within your heart
You no longer know what living is, because life and death for you don't seem far apart
You died the day you failed to live
Because you living a painful death (living a life that has no life)
You see yourself through a mirror
But the mirror sees your hurt at first
I know your sky will never be blue
Your brain forms those dark clouds, hence those rainy tears
You've lived with so much pain throughout all these years
Its now a part of your life hence your dreams are your fears
You need a friend, someone to comfort you, its just you don't see me
Or maybe its you in my mind and you IS me
No wonder why I can see you so clearly
I have my eyes shut and yet..Transperancy
poem by Kgagamatso Chimelwane
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The Complaint of Lisa
There is no woman living who draws breath
So sad as I, though all things sadden her.
There is not one upon life's weariest way
Who is weary as I am weary of all but death.
Toward whom I look as looks the sunflower
All day with all his whole soul toward the sun;
While in the sun's sight I make moan all day,
And all night on my sleepless maiden bed.
Weep and call out on death, O Love, and thee,
That thou or he would take me to the dead.
And know not what thing evil I have done
That life should lay such heavy hand on me.
Alas! Love, what is this thou wouldst with me?
What honor shalt thou have to quench my breath,
Or what shall my heart broken profit thee?
O Love, O great god Love, what have I done,
That thou shouldst hunger so after my death?
My heart is harmless as my life's first day:
Seek out some false fair woman, and plague her
Till her tears even as my tears fill her bed:
I am the least flower in thy flowery way,
But till my time be come that I be dead,
Let me live out my flower-time in the sun,
Though my leaves shut before the sunflower.
O Love, Love, Love, the kingly sunflower!
Shall he the sun hath looked on look on me,
That live down here in shade, out of the sun,
Here living in the sorrow and shadow of death?
Shall he that feeds his heart full of the day
Care to give mine eyes light, or my lips breath?
Because she loves him, shall my lord love her
Who is as a worm in my lord's kingly way?
I shall not see him or know him alive or dead;
But thou, I know thee, O Love, and pray to thee
That in brief while my brief life-days be done,
And the worm quickly make my marriage-bed.
For underground there is no sleepless bed.
But here since I beheld my sunflower
These eyes have slept not, seeing all night and day
His sunlike eyes, and face fronting the sun.
Wherefore, if anywhere be any death,
I fain would find and fold him fast to me,
That I may sleep with the world's eldest dead,
With her that died seven centuries since, and her
That went last night down the night-wandering way.
For this is sleep indeed, when labor is done,
Without love, without dreams, and without breath,
And without thought, O name unnamed! of thee.
Ah! but, forgetting all things, shall I thee?
Wilt thou not be as now about my bed
There underground as here before the sun?
Shall not thy vision vex me alive and dead,
Thy moving vision without form or breath?
I read long since the bitter tale of her
Who read the tale of Launcelot on a day,
And died, and had no quiet after death,
But was moved ever along a weary way,
Lost with her love in the underworld; ah me,
O my king, O my lordly sunflower,
Would God to me, too, such a thing were done!
But if such sweet and bitter things be done,
Then, flying from life, I shall not fly from thee.
For in that living world without a sun
Thy vision will lay hold upon me dead,
And meet and mock me, and mar my peace in death.
Yet if being wroth, God had such pity on her,
Who was a sinner and foolish in her day,
That even in hell they twain should breathe one breath,
Why should he not in some wise pity me?
So if I sleep not in my soft strait bed,
I may look up and see my sunflower
As he the sun, in some divine strange way.
O poor my heart, well knowest thou in what way
This sore sweet evil unto us was done.
For on a holy and a heavy day
I was arisen out of my still small bed
To see the knights tilt, and one said to me
"The king;" and seeing him, somewhat stopped my breath;
And if the girl spake more, I heard her not,
For only I saw what I shall see when dead,
A kingly flower of knights, a sunflower,
That shone against the sunlight like the sun,
And like a fire, O heart, consuming thee,
The fire of love that lights the pyre of death.
Howbeit I shall not die an evil death
Who have loved in such a sad and sinless way,
That this my love, lord, was no shame to thee.
So when mine eyes are shut against the sun,
O my soul's sun, O the world's sunflower,
Thou nor no man will quite despise me dead.
And dying I pray with all my low last breath
That thy whole life may be as was that day,
That feast-day that made trothplight death and me,
Giving the world light of thy great deeds done;
And that fair face brightening thy bridal bed,
That God be good as God hath been to her.
That all things goodly and glad remain with her,
All things that make glad life and goodly death;
That as a bee sucks from a sunflower
Honey, when summer draws delighted breath,
Her soul may drink of thy soul in like way,
And love make life a fruitful marriage-bed
Where day may bring forth fruits of joy to day
And night to night till days and nights be dead.
And as she gives light of her love to thee,
Give thou to her the old glory of days long done;
And either give some heat of light to me,
To warm me where I sleep without the sun.
O sunflower make drunken with the sun,
O knight whose lady's heart draws thine to her,
Great king, glad lover, I have a word to thee.
There is a weed lives out of the sun's way,
Hid from the heat deep in the meadow's bed,
That swoons and whitens at the wind's least breath,
A flower star-shaped, that all a summer day
Will gaze her soul out on the sunflower
For very love till twilight finds her dead.
But the great sunflower heeds not her poor death,
Knows not when all her loving life is done;
And so much knows my lord the king of me.
Ay, all day long he has no eye for me;
With golden eye following the golden sun
From rose-colored to purple-pillowed bed,
From birthplace to the flame-lit place of death,
From eastern end to western of his way,
So mine eye follows thee, my sunflower,
So the white star-flower turns and yearns to thee,
The sick weak weed, not well alive or dead,
Trod under foot if any pass by her,
Pale, without color of summer or summer breath
In the shrunk shuddering petals, that have done
No work but love, and die before the day.
But thou, to-day, to-morrow, and every day,
Be glad and great, O love whose love slays me.
Thy fervent flower made fruitful from the sun
Shall drop its golden seed in the world's way,
That all men thereof nourished shall praise thee
For grain and flower and fruit of works well done;
Till thy shed seed, O shining sunflower,
Bring forth such growth of the world's garden-bed
As like the sun shall outlive age and death.
And yet I would thine heart had heed of her
Who loves thee alive; but not till she be dead.
Come, Love, then, quickly, and take her utmost breath.
Song, speak for me who am dumb as are the dead;
From my sad bed of tears I send forth thee,
To fly all day from sun's birth to sun's death
Down the sun's way after the flying sun,
For love of her that gave thee wings and breath
Ere day be done, to seek the sunflower.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Purely Metaphysical-Letters to a Consciousness Waiting in Waste Letter X
Suffering made a brief visit in my life early this morning.
Instead of finding you last night I was found by another. She would not compete.
However mistakes had to be made in order for me to grow to the next realisation of truth.
Truth that I love you and no other.
Truth that you live and grow in my heart.
Truth that you are always in my thoughts.
Truth that I must tell you how I feel.
More and more, I grow courageous enough to express my compassion for you.
Truth is to live my life with you, freely and forever.
I will never hurt truth.
I will live and love truth.
I will know, understand and believe truth.
I will do everything I can to let you know truth.
I will not fear truth.
If you reject me, I will still love.
If you accept me, we will become love.
The truth of love
poem by Steve Bergwerff
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Only Woman Bleed
Man's got his woman to take his seed
He's got the power - oh
She's got the need
She spends her life through pleasing up her man
She feeds him dinner or anything she can
She cries alone at night too often
He smokes and drinks and don't come home at all
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Man makes your hair gray
He's your life's mistake
All you're really lookin' for is an even break
He lies right at you
You know you hate this game
He slaps you once in a while and you live and love in pain
She cries alone at night too often
He smokes and drinks and don't come home at all
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Black eyes all of the time
Don't spend a dime
Clean up this grime
And you there down on your knees begging me please come
Watch me bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only Women Bleed
Man's got his woman to take his seed
He's got the power - oh
She's got the need
She spends her life through pleasing up her man
She feeds him dinner or anything she can
She cries alone at night too often
He smokes and drinks and don't come home at all
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Man makes your hair gray
He's your life's mistake
All you're really lookin' for is an even break
He lies right at you
You know you hate this game
He slaps you once in a while and you live and love in pain
She cries alone at night too often
He smokes and drinks and don't come home at all
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Black eyes all of the time
Don't spend a dime
Clean up this grime
And you there down on your knees begging me please come
Watch me bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
song performed by by Alice Cooper from Welcome To My Nightmare
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only Women Bleed
Man's got his woman to take his seed
He's got the power - oh
She's got the need
She spends her life through pleasing up her man
She feeds him dinner or anything she can
She cries alone at night too often
He smokes and drinks and don't come home at all
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Man makes your hair gray
He's your life's mistake
All you're really lookin' for is an even break
He lies right at you
You know you hate this game
He slaps you once in a while and you live and love in pain
She cries alone at night too often
He smokes and drinks and don't come home at all
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Black eyes all of the time
Don't spend a dime
Clean up this grime
And you there down on your knees begging me please come
Watch me bleed.
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
Only women bleed
song performed by by Guns N' Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like Her Mum
She's just like her mum
Her dad did say,
As we sat and spoke for a bit.
So sad are the things
That she has done to you,
In my heart there is another candle unlit.
My poor little lassie
She has done it again
That son, is why that I am crying,
As what she has done to you
Was also done to me before,
And I too, felt like dying.
Her Mum whom I loved
With all of my heart
Did to me the very same things.
She went behind my back
More than once in our life
Then forgot about me and our rings.
All these excuses that she gave
And all the times that she lied
Finally came, and caught up with her.
Now she walks in her shame
From day unto day,
Never knowing what has, occurred.
But my poor young lassie
I pity her so
And the life that she is trying to live,
She will blame all of her faults
On her Mum and maybe even me
And now probably you, I do believe.
Inside of my own heart
As to me, her dad did speak
There are many candles that are unlit,
From the sadness that she caused
And the pain that she had dealt
My heart has became an empty pit.
And sadly I know one day
And it will be because of my Lassie
The candles will be gone, and I will had cried,
And this you will know my son
When my light and sunshine are gone
Of course so will I, as I will had died.
She is just like her Mum
Again her dad did say
As we had just finished our talk,
I can see it in her eyes
And I hear it when she speaks
I can even see it in her walk.
I feel so very sorry for you
What you have seen and what you have felt
Of all the wickedness my Lassie has done,
But sadly you are not the first
And you will not be the last,
As She is, just like Her Mum.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Killing Yourself To Live
Well people look and people stare
Well I dont think that I even care
You work your life away and what do they give?
Youre only killing yourself to live
Killing yourself to live
Killing yourself to live
Just take a look around you what do you see
Pain, suffering, and misery
Its not the way that the world was meant
Its a pity you dont understand
Killing yourself to live
Killing yourself to live
Im telling you
Believe in me
Nobody else will tell you
Open your eyes
And see the lies, oh yeah
You think Im crazy and baby
I know that its true
Before that you know it I think
That youll go crazy too
I dont know if Im up or down
Whether black is white or blue is brown
The colors of my life are all different somehow
Little boy blues a big girl now
So you think its me whos strange
But youve never had to make the change
Never give your trust away
Youll end up paying till your dying day
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psalm 51 part 1
A penitent pleading for pardon.
Show pity, Lord, O Lord, forgive,
Let a repenting rebel live:
Are not thy mercies large and free?
May not a sinner trust in thee?
My crimes are great, but not surpass
The power and glory of thy grace:
Great God, thy nature hath no bound,
So let thy pard'ning love be found.
O wash my soul from every sin,
And make my guilty conscience clean;
Here on my heart the burden lies,
And past offences pain my eyes.
My lips with shame my sins confess
Against thy law, against thy grace:
Lord, should thy judgment grow severe,
I am condemned, but thou art clear.
Should sudden vengeance seize my breath,
I must pronounce thee just in death;
And if my soul were sent to hell,
Thy righteous law approves it well.
Yet save a trembling sinner, Lord,
Whose hope, still hov'ring round thy word,
Would light on some sweet promise there,
Some sure support against despair.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Wood Jackson
Jackson made twenty tapes in a day
To give away
A give away
And he play
The tunes they'd call creative when they're running out of names
Heaven knows he's really torn it now
But the names it hurt poor jackson stopped the haters in his way
Heaven knows he's for it
Sha-a-a-me!
Hey hey
He was never quite unsure but really sane
Wants to play
Jackson stole twenty souls in a day
To take away
A take away
He takes away
And no complaints
Heart's upon his sleeve and his blade
Wood jackson took the beating every day, given out, passed away, another way
Hey hey
Just wants to play
And how he played
The mob they bleed and tremble when they're running after life
Heaven knows he's really torn it now
The words that killed Wood jackson's friends were written on the wall
Heaven knows he's for it
Shame!
Just wants to play
It's a shame
Shame
It's a shame
Wants to play
It's a shame
It's a shame
Just wants to play
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Imagine
Imagine life had no pain
No war or hate
religion profane
We All had the same beliefs
Lived in unity
A world of peace
No illnesses or disease
Have no fear
We live at ease
No control over people
No world leaders
We all made equal
No child abduction
Do away with
Weapons of mass destruction
Suffering did not exist
A life of sin
Would not be missed
Everyone is classed the same
No rich or poor
Greed or shame
I live in hope
But its just a dream
The way we live
Is to extreme
I just pray
That will be forgiven for
killing this beautiful planet
That we live in
poem by Nic Hillen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Caress
I used to be careless
Then I longed for the sweet caress
The freedom, the release
The end of me
It was what I ate every morning
That thought... dying didn't matter, no mourning
What is there to mourn when there's no value?
And what can you value in brokenness
In deceit, in hatred, in lust, in loneliness
All I valued was the caress,
The lovely dark touch
The release, the purpose, the crux
I earnestly waited
I ardently longed
I deeply desired
But one day my whole life changed...
I saw value, I felt value, I saw love, I felt love, joy unfeigned
I cant quite describe it, certainly not it all
It was the day He stopped my fall
But I still longed for the caress
The end to the pain, the end of suffering
I had new reasons now I must confess
But the old remained too
I still earnestly sought to escape, but this time to You
I sough the seemingly easier way out.
Let me just say it outright
I've always juts wanted to die, desired death, eternal night
I sought death, sometimes it was all I thought about...
But today (3-23-12) I finally felt fear
Not only did I not desire death
But I was afraid of it I could not just let
My life go, and I knew You were near
So I didn't want to die, I felt fear
I wanted to give my friend a gift
With hopes to encourage and uplift
I wanted to free my friends from the lie
With truth, love, faith and hope
Not be remembered as 'there for them', just to help them cope
But to free them from bondage
From death so they might have life, no cage
No prison, no lies, no fear, no shame, no death
I want to see them live, I want to live with them
I don't just want to know when
I want to be there
I want to be there when it happens
So I cant die... I won't die, not yet
Not till they know life.
Sorry God if it
s a selfish request or thought
But I fell like this is kingdom You brought
So now I want to bring them in
Please help, I cannot do it alone, not in my sin
But with You I'll take them back
So for the first time in my life I
I don't want to die
Help me show them Your love, let it overwhelm
All of this from a bee
That landed on me
You could say I'm allergic, I could go in a coma or die
I wished that ti would just fly
Away... but in that moment I caught
Myself fearing death, desiring life, I haven't fought
The good fight, I'm fighting
I'm loving
I'm seeking
I'm praying
I'm finally...
Finally
Living
poem by David Knox
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Fate:
In this life I live with a feeling, deep inside stabbing and tearing.
My heart is empty, Black and torn. these days of pain are uncomparing.
i try to ignore this guilt and sadness, i cant shake this pain and feeling.
the days grow longer, the nights grow darker this feeling i have is unwilling.
i wish it free to no longer be but my past has left me a great memory.
This memory within tears me apart, i wish to erase it from my mind and heart.
the memory of happiness that tears me apart, i only wish to flee from this tormenting memory.
to flee and run to escape my fate that is yet to come.
I cannot stop it, no matter how far i run, this fate will haunt me till its done.
poem by Thomas Bevers
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Compassion
A beggar in the street I saw,
Who held a hand like withered claw,
As cold as clay;
But as I had no silver groat
To give, I buttoned up my coat
And turned away.
And then I watched a working wife
Who bore the bitter load of life
With lagging limb;
A penny from her purse she took,
And with sweet pity in her look
Gave it to him.
Anon I spied a shabby dame
Who fed six sparrows as they came
In famished flight;
She was so poor and frail and old,
Yet crumbs of her last crust she doled
With pure delight.
Then sudden in my heart was born
For my sleek self a savage scorn,--
Urge to atone;
So when a starving cur I saw
I bandaged up its bleeding paw
And bought a bone.
For God knows it is good to give;
We may not have so long to live,
So if we can,
Let's do each day a kindly deed,
And stretch a hand to those in need,
Bird, beast or man.
poem by Robert William Service
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Loving Pain
Can you love when your heart is so cold
Love on your lips and lies in your eyes unfold
You’ve convoluted the truth of what is real
How can you love when you don’t want to heal
Your pain is your lover now cant you see
Your pain you have discovered keeps you free
If you share your pain with me vulnerable you will be
To vulnerable to concede that love is something you need
Let me touch you let me kiss you gently in that spot
Where they cut and poisoned the wound still burning hot
It’s not a matter of trust or you would run to my arms
It’s a matter of keeping close the pain that causes you harm
You caress your pain it belongs only to you
You exchange the shame for strength and truth
The unknown your fear the pain is near and dear
Every tear it becomes clear year after countless tears
I don’t care if you lie to me I can read between the lines
I don’t care if you care or not I care I wont deny
And when you let me in to tend and mend your pain
Gently caressing, kissing your pain because I too live in vain
poem by Jay Curster
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The Spider
'OH, look at that great ugly spider!' said Ann;
And screaming, she brush'd it away with her fan;
''Tis a frightful black creature as ever can be,
I wish that it would not come crawling on me. '
'Indeed,' said her mother, 'I'll venture to say,
The poor thing will try to keep out of your way;
For after the fright, and the fall, and the pain,
It has much more occasion than you to complain.
'But why should you dread the poor insect, my dear?
If it hurt you, there'd be some excuse for your fear;
But its little black legs, as it hurried away,
Did but tickle your arm, as they went, I dare say.
'For them to fear us we must grant to be just,
Who in less than a moment can tread them to dust;
But certainly we have no cause for alarm;
For, were they to try, they could do us no harm.
'Now look! it has got to its home; do you see
What a delicate web it has spun in the tree?
Why here, my dear Ann, is a lesson for you:
Come learn from this spider what patience can do!
'And when at your business you're tempted to play,
Recollect what you see in this insect to-day,
Or else, to your shame, it may seem to be true,
That a poor little spider is wiser than you. '
poem by Ann Taylor
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L'Ancien Regime
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king,
Our king all kings above?
A young girl brought him love;
And he dowered her with shame,
With a sort of infamous fame,
And then with lonely years
Of penance and bitter tears --
Love is scarcely the thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king?
A statesman brought him planned
Justice for all the land;
And he in recompense got
Fierce struggle with brigue and plot,
Then a fall from lofty place
Into exile and disgrace --
Justice is never the thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king?
A writer brought him truth;
And first he imprisoned the youth,
And then he bestowed a free pyre
That the works might have plenty of fire,
And also to cure the pain
Of the headache called thought in the brain --
Truth is a very bad thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king?
The people brought their sure
Loyalty fervid and pure;
And he gave them bountiful spoil
Of taxes and hunger and toil,
Ignorance, brutish plight,
And wholesale slaughter in fight --
Loyalty's quite the worst thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king?
A courtier brought to his feet
Servility graceful and sweet,
With an ever ready smile
And an ever supple guile;
And he got in reward the place
Of the statesman in disgrace --
Servility's always a thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king?
A soldier brought him war,
La gloire, la victoire,
Ravage and carnage and groans,
For the pious Te Deum tones;
And he got in return for himself
Rank and honors and pelf --
War is a very fine thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king?
A harlot brought him her flesh,
Her lusts, and the manifold mesh
Of her wiles intervolved with caprice;
And he gave her his realm to fleece,
To corrupt, to ruin, and gave
Himself for her toy and her slave
Harlotry's just the thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Who has a thing to bring
For a gift to our lord the king,
Our king who fears to die?
A priest brought him a lie,
The blackness of hell uprolled
In heaven's shining gold;
And he got as guerdon for that
A see and a cardinal's hat --
A lie is an excellent thing
To bring as a gift for our king.
Has any one yet a thing
For a gift to our lord the king?
The country gave him a tomb,
A magnificent sleeping-room;
And for this it obtained some rest,
Clear riddance of many a pest,
And a hope which it much enjoyed
That the throne would continue void --
A tomb is the very best thing
For a gift to our lord the king.
poem by James Thomson
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The God of Love Speaks to Man…
I gave you hands to grasp and work
With finesse, deftly, and eat food;
I thought you'll fold your hands and pray,
And thank me for the gifts I gave!
But you use hands to hurt and kill,
And do all sinful things your way!
I gave you legs that carry you,
And stand upright and walk my ways;
I thought you'll genuflect and pray,
And thank me for all that I do;
But you tread upon evil paths
And leave my tenets, go astray!
I gave you eyes upon your face
To see the good world I had made;
I thought you'll read the word of mine,
And live your life in accordance.
But you use eyes to see the muck
That spoils your heart and mind and soul!
I gave you ears to hear sweet sounds
Of birds and animals I found;
I thought you'll hear my divine voice
And thank me for the gift of life;
But you hear noise that's deafening,
And songs that satisfy your lust.
I gave you tongue and mouth to speak
Kind words to all and love brethren;
I thought you'll eat the foods you should,
And thank me for the taste of things;
But you speak lies and blaspheme God
And eat substances of abuse!
I gave you mind to think aright,
And wonder how awesome is God!
I thought you'll keep your brain flawless,
And thank me for your reasoning power;
But you take drugs that give you highs
And waste your precious time I gave!
I gave you heart to empathize,
And feel the anguish of others;
I thought you'll have remorse for sins
And ask forgiveness from the Lord;
But your heart harbours evil thoughts
Those wreck your mind, body and soul!
Remember man, I made you out
Of clay but breathed life into it;
And gave a soul and my semblance
To know my love that's infinite;
Love made me make you with great care,
And yearns to have you back wholesome!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 22-10-2012
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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