On Building With Stone
To be an ape in little of the mountain-making mother
Like swarthy Cheops, but my own hands
For only slaves, is a far sweeter toil than to cut
Passions in verse for a sick people.
I'd liefer bed one boulder in the house-wall than be the time's
Archilochus: we name not Homer: who now
Can even imagine the fabulous dawn when bay-leaves (to a blind
Beggar) were not bitter in the teeth?
Submitted by Holt
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Related quotes
We spend our lives fighting to get people very slightly more stupid than ourselves to accept truths that the great men have always known. They have known for thousands of years that to lock a sick person into solitary confinement makes him worse. They have known for thousands of years that a poor man who is frightened of his landlord and of the police is a slave. They have known it. We know it. … You and I are the boulder-pushers. All our lives, you and I, we’ll put all our energies, all our talents into pushing a great boulder up a mountain. The boulder is the truth that the great men know by instinct, and the mountain is the stupidity of mankind.
quote by Doris Lessing
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Epic Stars
The heroic stars spending themselves,
Coining their very flesh into bullets for the lost battle,
They must burn out at length like used candles;
And Mother Night will weep in her triumph, taking home her heroes.
There is the stuff for an epic poem--
This magnificent raid at the heart of darkness, this lost battle--
We don't know enough, we'll never know.
Oh happy Homer, taking the stars and the Gods for granted.
Submitted by Holt
poem by Robinson Jeffers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Imagine the World
Imagine the world ……………………….
Imagine the world without wars…
Imagine the world without your laws
Imagine your life without fear
Imagine your eyes without a tear
Imagine all men were real men
Imagine…imagine…imagine…
Imagine life without hate
Imagine you knew your own fate
Imagine all children were happy
Imagine all nations were free
What would life be like?
Imagine no-one were blind
Imagine all the woes behind
Imagine…….imagine……..imagine….
Imagi ne earth were flat
Imagine man without a heart
Imagine the day without light
Imagine the dark without the night
Imagine……….imagine……imagine……
Imagine faces without a smile
Imagine birds without a nightingale
Imagine …imagine…imagine
What would life be like?
poem by Bouche Cousue
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So Sick
I'm so sick of the worthlessness,
Your brutal attacks.
The people bent over,
To be whipped on their backs.
So sick of the falsehood,
The folklore, the lies.
The cries of a mother,
Who's only son dies.
So sick of the emptiness,
At the end of the world.
Hurt from the bruises,
From being 'your girl.'
Sick of 'I miss you's'
So glad that you're gone.
Yet still blinded by tears,
That drown out the dawn.
So sick of your cheating,
You replaced me too quick.
But what this comes down to,
Is Baby, Your Sick!
poem by Em Jay Christian
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Joe Fabulous
don't play my music on mtv
play it on the radio
we are the street kings and we don't care
yeah we really don't wanna know
i'm joe fabulous
life is my school
joe fabulous
and we are the merchants of cool
we do our thing
we believe in no sin
we are beyond your control
if you look closely
you'll find that were mostly
machines looking for a soul
im joe fabulous
life is my school
the next joe fabulous
and we are the merchants of cool
we aim to analyze
everything you say and do
so we can sell it back to you
joe fabulous
life is my school
joe fabulous
and we are the merchants of cool
there are no nations
just large corporations
flying the flag of the day
from dawn of creation
to civilisation
please don't take my music away
joe fabulous
life is my school
joe fabulous
play by my rules
joe fabulous
and we are the merchants of cool
thats all
bye bye everybody
bye bye
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Imagine Angels
imagine angels.
imagine a bolt of lightning
out of the blue so blue
striking a tree
a few feet away
imagine a thunderstorm
remaining overhead all night
imagine a summer dawn arising
as if for the first time on the earth
imagine cats and dogs whimpering
as the ground trembles
with the approaching earthquake
imagine the equation for space-time
there in the mind as you wake
imagine the death of children
imagine the birth of children
imagine the first love
of your lover
imagine a joy beyond detachment
imagine a detachment beyond joy
imagine angels
poem by Michael Shepherd
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When The Leaves Come Falling Down
I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face
And you were thinking bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
And at night the moon is shining on a clear, cloudless sky
And when the evening shadows fall Ill be there by your side
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place beside the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space before the twilight and the dawn
Oh, the last time I saw paris in the streets, in the rain
And as I walk along the boulevards with you, once again
And the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place between the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space between the twilight and the dawn
And as Im looking at the colour of the leaves, in your hand
As were listening to chet baker on the beach, in the sand
When the leaves come falling down,
Woe in september, when the leaves come falling down
Oh when the leaves come falling down
Yeah in september when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falting down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Open The Door, Homer (1)
by Bob Dylan
Now, there's a certain thing
That I learned from Jim
That he'd always make sure I'd understand
And that is that there's a certain way
That a man must swim
If he expects to live off
Of the fat of the land.
Open the door, Homer,
I've heard it said before.
Open the door, Homer,
I've heard it said before
But I ain't gonna hear it said no more.
Now, there's a certain thing
That I learned from my friend, Mouse
A fella who always blushes
And that is that ev'ryone
Must always flush out his house
If he don't expect to be
Goin' 'round housing flushes.
Open the door, Homer,
I've heard it said before.
Open the door, Homer,
I've heard it said before
But I ain't gonna hear it said no more.
"Take care of all your memories"
Said my friend, Mick
"For you cannot relive them
And remember when you're out there
Tryin' to heal the sick
That you must always
First forgive them."
Open the door, Homer,
I've heard it said before.
Open the door, Homer,
I've heard it said before
But I ain't gonna hear it said no more.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beulah Needs Another Man
Beulah needs another man who'll take
the garbage out at dawn and not
bring it back again at midnight, something
Jasper's done many nights for years.
Beulah knows when Jasper's found
another woman but she never says a word
because Jasper always mows the lawn
and rakes the leaves and fixes
things around the house unlike
Homer who was never handy.
But yesterday the doctor said Jasper has
six months to live so Beulah wants to meet
another handy man at Jasper's wake.
She met Jasper at a wake the day
he dropped the lid on Homer's coffin.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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In A Certain Culture
In a certain culture,
People do eat and drink blood;
In a certain culture,
People wake up early to eat before they brush their teeth;
In a certain culture,
People eat animals already found dead;
In a certain culture,
People wake up early to eat before they bath;
In a certain culture,
People eat snakes and dogs;
In a certain culture,
People wake up to brush their teeth before eating;
In a certain culture,
People eat monkeys and crocodiles;
Ina certain culture,
People wake up in the morning to bath before they eat;
In a certain culture,
To be naked at the beachside is okay;
In a certain culture,
It is a taboo to be naked at the beachside;
And this is all about life on this earth!
Because what is sweeter on your lips is bitter on mine;
And it is very strange to experience all these facts around the world.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Poetry For Supper
'Listen, now, verse should be as natural
As the small tuber that feeds on muck
And grows slowly from obtuse soil
To the white flower of immortal beauty.'
'Natural, hell! What was it Chaucer
Said once about the long toil
That goes like blood to the poem's making?
Leave it to nature and the verse sprawls,
Limp as bindweed, if it break at all
Life's iron crust. Man, you must sweat
And rhyme your guts taut, if you'd build
Your verse a ladder.'
'You speak as though
No sunlight ever surprised the mind
Groping on its cloudy path.'
'Sunlight's a thing that needs a window
Before it enter a dark room.
Windows don't happen.'
So two old poets,
Hunched at their beer in the low haze
Of an inn parlour, while the talk ran
Noisily by them, glib with prose.
Submitted by Andrew Mayers
poem by Ronald Stuart Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Fabulous Place
As I peer at the moon and revel at each star,
It’s as if night’s ceiling really isn’t that far.
My mind floats like a comet through unending space.
The haunting heavens are mine in this fabulous place.
Back here on earth many smiling people abound.
Like bees in a hive they busily scatter around.
They enliven this world with their unending pace.
Friends and acquaintances are close in this fabulous place.
Not long ago each country was a world of its own.
Now distant corners yield mysteries to a mere telephone.
Unknowns spring from sources that once hadn’t a trace,
But now have become indispensables in this fabulous place.
Trees reach to the sky as flowers follow the sun.
Flora and fauna provide seasonal splendor for everyone.
The fortunes of nature paint an inspiring face,
Enchantingly molding rock and soil in this fabulous place.
Time’s needles are unrelenting in their unscrupulous race
To transform budding roses into wilting leaves in a vase.
But love’s light looms large and is life’s base in every case…
The essence of existence making our world this fabulous place.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Open The Door, Homer
Now, theres a certain thing
That I learned from jim
That hed always make sure Id understand
And that is that theres a certain way
That a man must swim
If he expects to live off
Of the fat of the land.
Open the door, homer,
Ive heard it said before.
Open the door, homer,
Ive heard it said before
But I aint gonna hear it said no more.
Now, theres a certain thing
That I learned from my friend, mouse
A fella who always blushes
And that is that evryone
Must always flush out his house
If he dont expect to be
Goin round housing flushes.
Open the door, homer,
Ive heard it said before.
Open the door, homer,
Ive heard it said before
But I aint gonna hear it said no more.
Take care of all your memories
Said my friend, mick
For you cannot relive them
And remember when youre out there
Tryin to heal the sick
That you must always
First forgive them.
Open the door, homer,
Ive heard it said before.
Open the door, homer,
Ive heard it said before
But I aint gonna hear it said no more.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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OH! I can't SAY that....(a revision)
I'm sick of f\%king Facebook,
sick of emails,
sick of people talking,
sick of my work radio beeping,
I'm sick of words.
I am being cluttered to death by words....
I am sick of listening to crazies on the bus,
sick of television spewing out banality.
Sick of voices, sick of billboards, sick of typing.
I am word sick.
I am sick of people
The more they let me know them the less I care.
I don't care what your baby did.
don't give a f$ck about what you ate for dinner.
I don't even f*ckin care if your grandpa died.
Sick, sick, sick, I am making myself sick
just writing this sh#t down.
Nothing anyone has to say is of any importance at all
that includes me.
I am drowning in words, and voices, and mundane ideas.
I am sick of people trying to 'set the world on fire'
But I do wish them luck....
because some men just want to see the world burn.
I'm sick of f&cking texts and even more sick of phone calls.
I am sick of adverts on the telly.
I am fed up with peoples life stories.
I don't care what you have been through,
as long as you will let me sleep with you.
And I will only sleep with you
if you promise to wear a ball gag.
poem by Brevet Wilson
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Lonesome Night
You brothers, who are mine,
Poor people, near and far,
Longing for every star,
Dream of relief from pain,
You, stumbling dumb
At night, as pale stars break,
Lift your thin hands for some
Hope, and suffer, and wake,
Poor muddling commonplace,
You sailors who must live
Unstarred by hopelessness,
We share a single face.
Give me my welcome back.
Translated by James Wright
Submitted by Holt
poem by Hermann Hesse
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Summit Redwood
Only stand high a long enough time your lightning
will come; that is what blunts the peaks of
redwoods;
But this old tower of life on the hilltop has taken
it more than twice a century, this knows in
every
Cell the salty and the burning taste, the shudder
and the voice.
The fire from heaven; it has
felt the earth's too
Roaring up hill in autumn, thorned oak-leaves tossing
their bright ruin to the bitter laurel-leaves,
and all
Its under-forest has died and died, and lives to be
burnt; the redwood has lived. Though the fire
entered,
It cored the trunk while the sapwood increased. The
trunk is a tower, the bole of the trunk is a
black cavern,
The mast of the trunk with its green boughs the
mountain stars are strained through
Is like the helmet-spike on the highest head of an
army; black on lit blue or hidden in cloud
It is like the hill's finger in heaven. And when the
cloud hides it, though in barren summer, the
boughs
Make their own rain.
Old Escobar had a cunning trick
when he stole beef. He and his grandsons
Would drive the cow up here to a starlight death and
hoist the carcass into the tree's hollow,
Then let them search his cabin he could smile for
pleasure, to think of his meat hanging secure
Exalted over the earth and the ocean, a theft like a
star, secret against the supreme sky.
Submitted by Holt
poem by Robinson Jeffers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Listening To The Clock Ticking
that last servant of the house
finally leaves
she also had to go to sleep with her mother
it happens this way sometimes
he is left alone and as he tries to sleep
he feels that the big mouth of the house is eating him
swallowed his body listens to the sound of the clock on the wall
ticking and ticking as if time is running out.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Myth of Winter
Once more! The earth tilted towards the sun
That sent the frigid wind from north to south
Making summer marked the earth as it leaves
The trees and grassy mountains thirsty and dry,
Doom of the universe that darkened the clouds;
Rains of fate are in Mother Nature’s hands best;
Cynical desire of an earthling is still incomplete;
Must he know how, how winter showers bleed?
Yet, look around the snowy-veil of this mountain;
As bride in the aisle of clouds, she is shimmering;
Willing to standstill upon the eyes of her beholder,
With question in mind: Why winter cries in flakes?
Bound to love the creation of God, this artist’s hand
Laid this endless beauty on canvas, when she dies;
Selfsame, self-story then from wall to wall, he hangs
With tireless doubt in mind: Why do winter leaves?
Then the earth tilts once more away from the sun,
And brought back the trees and mountains anew,
Yet! Still, this earthling has composed a question,
“Why do other places have no winter like mine? “
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Beggar To Beggar Cried
'TIME to put off the world and go somewhere
And find my health again in the sea air,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And make my soul before my pate is bare.-
'And get a comfortable wife and house
To rid me of the devil in my shoes,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And the worse devil that is between my thighs.'
And though I'd marry with a comely lass,
She need not be too comely -- let it pass,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'But there's a devil in a looking-glass.'
'Nor should she be too rich, because the rich
Are driven by wealth as beggars by the itch,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'And cannot have a humorous happy speech.'
'And there I'll grow respected at my ease,
And hear amid the garden's nightly peace.'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'The wind-blown clamour of the barnacle-geese.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Wall Of Love
Ooh great wall of love, build me a great wall of love
When the blind man sings about the peaceful things
You shout that its not good enough
Ah we wait till daylight hours
Waiting for a sign from you
Golden temples concrete towers
Building mansions on the hillside next to you
In the city souls awaken bodies shaking
Oh pull me up let me see the view
And to the hungry in the gutter
Weve deprived them bread and butter
Always not enough
No not enough
Great wall of love, build me a great wall of love
When the blind man sings about the peaceful things
You shout that its still not enough.
Ah well its not the sound of ghosts I hear
Its the devil with his chainsaw
And Ill be running through the ghettos
Through the townships of soweto
Always not enough
No not enough
Brothers missing, babies kissing
And the thing that got to you
Burning never turning next to you
Ooh great wall of love
Build me a great wall of love
When the blind man sings about the peaceful things
You shout that its still not enough
So listen to me darling
Theyve got worries theyve got troubles on their mind
And when you hear them reaching out
Theyre reaching out for something they cant find
Oh I believe one great day the rain will come
And wash this mess away
Oh I believe one great day the rain will come
Theyve got silver and diamonds
Theyve got paradise around them
Theyve got blue skies so clear
Theyve got their prisoner in a wagon
While the children chase the dragon
And the free bird files so clear
It files away
Fly fly fly away
Fly away
Oh you fly away
And may your sweet lips sing to me
Let the bells ring wherever freedom be
One babe is born and another one dies
Theres people making love tonight
People making love tonight
Ah people making love tonight
People making love
People making love tonight
People making love
I can hear them reaching out
I can hear them reaching out
I can hear them reaching out
I can hear them reaching out
Words and music : simple minds reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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