Oh! Death Will Find Me, Long Before I Tire
Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire
Of watching you; and swing me suddenly
Into the shade and loneliness and mire
Of the last land! There, waiting patiently,
One day, I think, I'll feel a cool wind blowing,
See a slow light across the Stygian tide,
And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing,
And tremble. And I shall know that you have died,
And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream,
Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host,
Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam --
Most individual and bewildering ghost! --
And turn, and toss your brown delightful head
Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.
poem by Rupert Brooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Sonnet: Oh! Death Will Find Me, Long Before I Tire
Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire
Of watching you; and swing me suddenly
Into the shade and loneliness and mire
Of the last land! There, waiting patiently,
One day, I think, I’ll feel a cool wind blowing,
See a slow light across the Stygian tide,
And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing,
And tremble. And I shall know that you have died,
And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream,
Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host,
Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam—
Most individual and bewildering ghost!—
And turn, and toss your brown delightful head
Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.
poem by Rupert Brooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire
Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire
Of watching you; and swing me suddenly
Into the shade and loneliness and mire
Of the last land! There, waiting patiently,
One day, I think, I'll feel a cool wind blowing,
See a slow light across the Stygian tide,
And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing,
And tremble. And I shall know that you have died,
And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream,
Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host,
Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam --
Most individual and bewildering ghost! --
And turn, and toss your brown delightful head
Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.
poem by Rupert Brooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: "Oh! Death will find me"
OH! Death will find me, long before I tire
Of watching you; and swing me suddenly
Into the shade and loneliness and mire
Of the last land! There, waiting patiently,
One day, I think, I’ll feel a cool wind blowing,
See a slow light across the Stygian tide,
And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing,
And tremble. And Ishall know that you have died,
And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream,
Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host,
Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam—
Most individual and bewildering ghost!—
And turn, and toss your brown delightful head
Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.
poem by Rupert Brooke
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Everlasting Gaze
You know I'm not dead
Now you know where I've been
As you sleep
Torn I am
Weighted down
Patiently
Born of love
You know I'm not dead
I'm just living in my head
Forever waiting
On the ways of your desire
You always find a way
And thru it all
Into us all you move
Forgotten touch
Forbidden thought
We can never have enough
You know I'm not dead
Found below
The creatures scream
Stranglehold
A god machine
Begging to
Tear us out
Worn as hope
You know I'm not dead I'm just the tears inside your head
Forever waiting
On the ways of your desire
You always find a way
And thru it all into us all you move
Forgotten touch
Forbidden thought
We can never have enough
You know I'm not dead
We all want to hold in the everlasting gaze
Enchanted in the rapture of his sentimental sway
But underneath the wheels lie the skulls of every c.o.g.
The fickle fascination of an everlasting god
You know I'm not dead
I'm just living in my head
Forever waiting
Forever waiting on cruel death
You know I'm not dead
I'm just living for myself
Forever waiting
You know I'm not dead
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loneliness
Now it is Loneliness who comes at night
Instead of Sleep, to sit beside my bed.
Like a tired child I lie and wait her tread,
I watch her softly blowing out the light.
Motionless sitting, neither left or right
She turns, and weary, weary droops her head.
She, too, is old; she, too, has fought the fight.
So, with the laurel she is garlanded.
Through the sad dark the slowly ebbing tide
Breaks on a barren shore, unsatisfied.
A strange wind flows... then silence. I am fain
To turn to Loneliness, to take her hand,
Cling to her, waiting, till the barren land
Fills with the dreadful monotone of rain
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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My Boy Jack
1914-1918
'Have you news of my boy Jack?'
Not this tide.
'When d'you think that he'll come back?'
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
'Has anyone else had word of him?'
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing and this tide.
'Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?'
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind-
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Have You News of my Boy Jack?
'Have you news of my boy Jack?'
Not this tide.
'When d'you think that he'll come back?'
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.
'Has anyone else had word of him?'
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing and this tide.
'Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?'
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind-
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.
Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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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
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Just A Dream-II
While you sleep like an angel
Under a silent and starry night.
I want to penetrate
Deeply in your dream
And become like a spy!
I want to find you in a sunny day
When the flowers are happy smiling
Watching the colorful butterflies play
While bewitched by its scent…
I want to climb the highest mountain,
Hoping to find you on the very top
Patiently waiting for me
And expecting to get
Drowned in my ardent lips…
I want to travel through
The Seven Seas
And feel the soothing breeze
Gently caressing my body
While I think of you!
Yes, indeed!
At the beach, on a sandy bed,
I want to quietly fall asleep
And start dreaming about you
And then, by surprise,
I feel the warmness of your body
Softly caressing mine
But when I suddenly wake up
And wide-open my lazy eyes,
I find a mermaid
Resting on my chest!
It wasn't you there
But the mermaid
For you were only
On my dream, instead!
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Just A Dream
JUST A DREAM
While you sleep like an angel
Under a silent and starry night.
I want to penetrate
Deeply in your dream
And become like a spy!
I want to find you in a sunny day
When the flowers are happy smiling
Watching the colorful butterflies play
While bewitched by its scent…
I want to climb the highest mountain,
Hoping to find you on the very top
Patiently waiting for me
And expecting to get
Drowned in my ardent lips…
I want to travel through
The Seven Seas
And feel the soothing breeze
Gently caressing my body
While I think of you!
Yes, indeed!
At the beach, on a sandy bed,
I want to quietly fall asleep
And start dreaming about you
And then, by surprise,
I feel the warmness of your body
Softly caressing mine
But when I suddenly wake up
And wide-open my lazy eyes,
I find a mermaid
Resting on my chest!
It wasn't you there
But the mermaid
For you were only
On my dream, instead!
All Rights Reserved(c) 2012
New York City
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Katmandu
I sit beside the dark
Beneath the mire
Cold grey dusty day
The morning lake
Drinks up the sky
Katmandu Ill soon be seeing you
And your strange bewildering time
Will hold me down
Chop me some broken wood
Well start a fire
White warm light the dawn
And help me see
Old satans tree
Katmandu Ill soon be touching you
And your strange bewildering time
Will hold me down
Pass me my hat and coat
Lock up the cabin
Slow night treat me right
Until I go
Be nice to know
Katmandu Ill soon be seeing you
And your strange bewildering time
Will keep me home
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The First Extra
A Waltz Song.
O sway, and swing, and sway,
And swing, and sway, and swing!
Ah me, what bliss like unto this,
Can days and daylight bring?
A rose beneath your feet
Has fallen from my head;
Its odour rises sweet,
All crushed it lies, and dead.
O Love is like a rose,
Fair-hued, of fragrant breath;
A tender flow'r that lives an hour,
And is most sweet in death.
O swing, and sway, and swing,
And rise, and sink, and fall!
There is no bliss like unto this,
This is the best of all.
The Rainbow
Watch the white dawn gleam,
To the thunder of hidden guns.
I hear the hot shells scream
Through skies as sweet as a dream
Where the silver dawn-break runs.
And stabbing of light
Scorches the virginal white.
But I feel in my being the old, high, sanctified thrill,
And I thank the gods that the dawn is beautiful still.
From death that hurtles by
I crouch in the trench day-long,
But up to a cloudless sky
From the ground where our dead men lie
A brown lark soars in song.
Through the tortured air,
Rent by the shrapnel's flare,
Over the troubleless dead he carols his fill,
And I thank the gods that the birds are beautiful still.
Where the parapet is low
And level with the eye
Poppies and cornflowers glow
And the corn sways to and fro
In a pattern against the sky.
The gold stalks hide
Bodies of men who died
Charging at dawn through the dew to be killed or to kill.
I thank the gods that the flowers are beautiful still.
When night falls dark we creep
In silence to our dead.
We dig a few feet deep
And leave them there to sleep -
But blood at night is red,
Yea, even at night,
And a dead man's face is white.
And I dry my hands, that are also trained to kill,
And I look at the stars - for the stars are beautiful still.
poem by Leslie Coulson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Never Know
Sun still stone
Watching
We walk by them and hear voices yeah
No one ever stops to talk of things we'd rather do
They never did
What if God shuffled by
One day we might say
We're angry not afraid
Like breathing just to breathe
That we might find some reason
But there's much to go round
That's what's wrong with the world
Don't lose the dreams inside your head
They're only there until you're dead
Dream
Lying on the roof
Counting
The stars that fill the sky
Wondering why
Someone out there really isn't looking back down on me
You never know
So much space to believe
Only when you're small
A moment follows the cause
There's no one but you see
Hey there the moon is chasing me
And I worried if I looked away she'd be gone
Don't lose the dreams inside your head
They're only there until you're dead
Dream
Oh oh oh la la la
One day fill your brain
With no cares in the world
The mellow tune come to play
She's all mine just for a day
And there's no time to waste
In the play of this game
Don't lose the dreams inside your head
They're only there until you're dead
Dream
Unforgiveable down
It won't be so long now
Out of the darkness comes light
Like a flash
You think you can you think you can
Sometimes that is the problem
Dream
Is it your dream
Dream
Spilling on being
And he fell on them
And every day should be a good day to die
Oh oh fall down
It won't be so long now
I do love I'll hand love
I find it hard to explain
How I got here
I think I can I think I can
but then again I will falter
dream
I think I can I think I can
I think I can I think I can
Oh dream
Little darling
Dream
Spilling on being
We fell from them
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band from Busted Stuff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Old Eagle.
An Eagle Stands on the top of cliff,
Waiting for a way West Wind,
It stands so long in waiting,
Just for the wind to come.
The right wind comes,
This eagle feels so lonely to start flying,
It is ready to fly six thousand miles away,
How a long and lonely journey to go?
Suddenly it wants to give up a great dream.
How a great eagle will struggle on its way?
Why it did not do it earlier and younger?
The right wind passes vainly with no use.
The pitiful eagle is growing older and older.
What will be the next great job for this eagle?
Oh poor eagle, take it easy don’t look up so high.
You are not the new hero at nowadays.
Suddenly a way west wind blows pass,
that only brings you a loneliness.
poem by Albert Wong
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When Death
(Yet another early work - one month shy of 17)
When death is coming up your walk,
And you're unaware of his escence,
You invite him in, and have a talk
Which reeks of omniprescence
When death is sitting in your home
And you're enchanted by his smile
He's been to places like Paris and Rome,
You ask him to stay awhile
When death is leaning very near,
And your house is all aglow,
He whispers something in your ear,
You know it's time to go
When death is touching you all around
And he plays within your head,
You cannot see, nor hear a sound,
You know you'll soon be dead
When death becomes a part of you,
In the still of night
There is nothing you can do,
Until you see the light
When death takes you to the place
Where you'll see the light,
You will not find a familiar face,
But you'll be too tired to fight
When death begins to say good bye
And says you're on your own
You watch the light, and then you sigh -
You see how bright it's grown
When death gets up, and walks through the light
(Which feels like half-melted ice)
You follow him through to discover your plight
And find you're in paradise
poem by Michael Troy Buffo
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Evening.
The light is drawn out of the leaves and grass,
And the sweet flowers grow pale in the gray air,
As if their beauty's essence e'en did pass
With the departing light from all things fair,
As the sap in the trees when summer's fled
Draws back to the earth, leaving the leaves dead.
The sky becomes a cloud, the hills a shade,
As the mysterious darkness fills the sphere,
A monstrous elf whose tentacles are laid
In silence upon all things far and near;
Now the bats flit about the mothy damp
In which the spiders weave their airy camp.
I, too, could fill as 'twere a dreamy bed
Under the green leaves in the darkness now,
And watch the evening planet overhead
Like a dewdrop upon the airy bough
Of heaven tremble — till my soul too grew
Like liquid light in water, shining through.
And I can feel that which the dead inherit —
Peace, and the power to forego the pain
That like a vulture on the human spirit
Draws its fine essence from the fading brain,
Till every sense contracts, and the slow breath
Oozes away in the desire of death.
So from me slips the day's disquietude,
And I am made one with the night, as those
Who pass from thought into a faery mood
On Lethe's wharf, whenas old Charon goes
Into the dusk of that eternal eve
Where all must go when the earth-light they leave.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Ghost of You
Whistling wind
Crashing waves
Hot white sand
And high caves
The smell of grass
The taste of sand
The sight of happiness
Cool skin 'gainst my hand
Footballs and soccer
Cameras and lenses
Exercise and hugs
Sitting watching movies
Hiking the bush
Cycling in the heat
Slaving at work
Blisters on my feet
Ur cool lips
Ur smooth legs
Ur delightful smile
things i won't forget
But no joy
Do they give
They merely remind
Me of what i could've
Everywhere i go
In the things i do
I'm constantly haunted
By the ghost of you
Trying so hard
To get you out my head
But The ghost of you
Still isnt dead
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Wots...Uh The Deal
Heaven said the promised land
Looks allright from where I stand
Cause I'm the man on the outside looking in
Waiting on the first step
Show where the key is kept
Point me down the right line because it's time
To let me in from the cold
Turn my land into gold
Cause there's chill wind blowing in my soul
And I think I'm growing old
Flash the red is wots...uh the deal
Got to make to the next meal
Try to keep up with the turning of the wheel.
Mile after mile
Stone after stone
Turn to speak but you're alone
Million mile from home you're on your own
So let me in from the cold
Turn my land into gold
Cause there's chill wind blowing in my soul
And I think I'm growing old
Fly bright by candlelight
Up out of my sight
And if she prefers we will never stir again
Someone said the promised land
And I grabbed it with both hands
Now I'm the man on the inside looking out
Hear me shout 'come on in
song performed by by Pink Floyd from Obscured By Clouds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pilgrim
Put by the sun my joyful soul,
We are for darkness that is whole;
Put by the wine, now for long years
We must be thirsty with salt tears;
Put by the rose, bind thou instead
The fiercest thorns about thy head;
Put by the courteous tire, we need
But the poor pilgrim's blackest weed;
Put by — a'beit with tears — thy lute,
Sing but to God or else be mute.
Take leave of friends save such as dare
Thy love with Loneliness to share.
It is full tide. Put by regret.
Turn, turn away. Forget. Forget.
Put by the sun my lightless soul,
We are for darkness that is whole.
poem by Robert Nichols
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