My Moments
MY MOMENTS
AS Moon I enjoyed my moments
In spite of my waning fortnights
When Romeo blamed my light
As bellowing his desperate romantic ember
I smiled at his love-sick plight
When Omar Khayyam did plaudit
That I heartened his poetic craft
I did inflect a wholehearted lilt
When a sneaky burglar cursed that
My fully waxed nights played a spoil sport
Always, on his professional pursuits
I laughed aloud with a glistering taunt
But what I saw tonight
Depressed my spirits, beyond thought
Here is a beggar in the street
Running without food, his third night
Bleary eyed; half-swooned and
Sinking further into a blissful faint
Pushed his feeble hands aloft
To catch me! Thinking that
I am a well-roasted ‘roti’ to eat
I wept, wept and wept my heart out!
And left in shame the night abrupt
To hide behind the cloud curtains! !
Sathya……..
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Related quotes
A painful passage
I wept and wept, endlessly wept,
Like of which I have never wept
Save at the time of my mother’s death,
While some sequences I read
Off the book ‘The Blind Assassin’
Of Ms Margaret Atwild, wherein
A little girl, by name, Griffen
Watches speechless the gaze of the mother,
Who is in sick bed, the little sister
Being away at play, quite unaware,
And the mother in her feeble voice
Beseeching her to take care of her sister,
To which she assuredly nods and weeps
At the impending end of her mother,
Without thinking who is there to take
Her own care or that what is in store.
I wept and wept, endlessly wept
As the two little sisters resembled
My two granddaughters, me their mother,
As though their mother is in death bed,
With fear of death looming over my head.
I wept and wept, recurrently wept
When I read, wrote and rewrote
The above passage many a time.
27.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Love lost matters nil.
I had lost my wealth in a gamble; I wept.
I had lost my son in a battle; I wept.
Out of love or out of loss had I wept?
Out of fear or out of need had I wept?
No one ever for the love lost had wept.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Revelation TV
God gave a Christian a mission,
A sacred destiny!
When greeted with derision,
He offered clemency!
He reached out with his loving hands
Extending Heaven's grace,
Yet people laughed at God's commands
And laughed in this man's face...
But he continued in God's love,
Such that the years rolled by,
Such that God proved His grace enough
And held his head up high...
But one day came when things went wrong,
Such that the poor man wept,
No longer with a faith so strong,
In fact, he hardly slept...
He thought God's ministry was done,
Support had waned away,
That's when he knelt before God's Son
And prayed both night and day...
God heard his prayer and He wept, too,
Then stirred the hearts of men!
Revelation TV helps you!
Will you help them again?
poem by Denis Martindale
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I'm sick
I’m sick of always waiting for the breaks I never get,
I’m sick of being left behind and sleeping in my sweat,
I’m sick of making money when the ends are never met,
I’m sick of being sick of life I’m trapped inside a net,
I’m sick of having to be strong when I’m a nervous wreck,
I’m sick of working dead-end jobs that lack any respect,
I’m sick of waiting in a line where I am never next,
I’m sick of knowing that I’ll never truly be the best,
I’m sick of acting normal when I know that I’m a mess,
I’m sick of other people saying that I’m really blessed,
I’m sick of having all this pain I feel inside my chest,
I’m sick of being stressed, I’m feeling so depressed,
I’m reaching for a goal that very few are to obtain,
And no more strength is left in me because of all the pain,
I know that I have said that there is God inside the rain,
But where is God in moments when my bodies feeling drained,
And where is God in moments when a prayer won’t explain,
The fact that I was born a baby lacking half a brain,
The fact my hands and feet are tied together by these chains,
I can’t break free I need some help but all I get is blame,
I’m blamed for the mistakes I’ve made and it is such a shame,
I know that I’m a winner yet I’m losing to life’s game,
I’m losing my religion and all I do is entertain,
The other mindless people I swear this life is so mundane,
I’m always asking why,
I always say I try,
I’m looking to the sky,
Accept the pain and fly.
poem by Nathan Streango
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The Last Judgment
With beating heart and lagging feet,
Lord, I approach the Judgment-seat.
All bring hither the fruits of toil,
Measures of wheat and measures of oil;
Gold and jewels and precious wine;
No hands bare like these hands of mine.
The treasure I have nor weighs nor gleams:
Lord, I can bring you only dreams.
In days of spring, when my blood ran high,
I lay in the grass and looked at the sky,
And dreamed that my love lay by my side--
My love was false, and then she died.
All the heat of the summer through,
I dreamed she lived, that her heart was true
Throughout the hours of the day I slept,
But woke in the night, at times, and wept.
The nights and days, they went and came,
I lay in shadow and dreamed of fame;
And heard men passing the lonely place,
Who marked me not and my hidden face.
My strength waxed faint, my hair grew grey;
Nothing but dreams by night and day.
Some men sicken, with wine and food;
I starved on dreams, and found them good.
* * * * * * *
This is the tale I have to tell--
Show the fellow the way to hell.
The Song Unknown
It was many a day and many a night
A windswept night ago
When over the tempest-tossed sea rose and swelled
A terrible cry of woe
And one maiden fair sat straight up in her bed
And wept for she knew her lover was dead
It was many a day and many a night
Many a night ago
It was many a day and many a night
A windtorn night ago
When over the balmy sea rose and swelled
A song of mourning low
And one maiden fair wept long and wept loud
For she knew it was her lover who was wrapped in that shroud
It was many a day and many a night
Many a night ago
It was many a day and many a night
A windswept night ago
When over the rolling sea rose and died
A song we shall never know
It is sung by the maiden fair and the stars shining brightly
And her lover who lies in the depths of the sea
It was many a day and many a night
Many a night ago.
poem by Rebecca Walker
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Tonight's The Night
Tonight’s the night,
I said in my head,
I don’t care anymore,
I wish I was dead.
Tonight’s the night,
I thought deep inside,
I haven’t the energy,
To keep trying to hide.
Tonight’s the night,
I said out loud,
So I took the pills;
Not feeling proud.
Tonight’s the night,
I thought for sure,
This pain won’t end,
There is no cure.
Tonight’s the night,
Or so I thought,
I hadn’t taken enough pills;
I was soon taught.
Tonight’s not the night,
I thought as I was sick,
I’ve achieved nothing,
I feel like a prick.
Tonight’s not the night,
I told my friend,
I can’t stand this nightmare,
Will it ever end?
Tonight’s not the night,
My friend said to me,
He’s over the moon,
But I just want to be free.
poem by Gemma Nolan
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Back From A Two-years' Sentence
Back from a two-years' sentence!
And though it had been ten,
You think, I were scarred no deeper
In the eyes of my fellow-men.
'My fellow-men--?' Sounds like a satire,
You think-- and I so allow,
Here in my home since childhood,
Yet more than a stranger now!
Pardon--! Not wholly a stranger--,
For I have a wife and child:
That woman has wept for two long years,
And yet last night she smiled--!
Smiled, as I leapt from the platform
Of the midnight train, and then--
All that I knew was that smile of hers,
And our babe in my arms again!
Back from a two-years' sentence--
But I've thought the whole thing through--,
A hint of it came when the bars swung back
And I looked straight up in the blue
Of the blessed skies with my hat off!
O-ho! I've a wife and child:
That woman has wept for two long years,
And yet last night she smiled!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Replacement
Amid the village is a deserted house,
That gives depressing impressions to the onlookers,
The windows and doors are shabby broken
There dangle bats on the walls at nights, and crows caw
At noons in the branches where nightingales sang,
And often at nights mysterious sounds we hear.
Ah! Four decades ago it was inhibited,
Noise of the children spilled out of its walls,
They all played hide and seek with the befriended kids.
I too played believing in the innocent notion
That time and tide could not part us asunder,
Whether rains rain and clouds thunder,
But my self-assumed belief proved fragile,
Then the shocking moments approached,
And occupants departed to a better dwelling abroad.
I often recall the moment when they departed,
The whole village gathered, men, women and children wept,
Their eyes were red as if blood would dropp soon;
They were kissing, embracing the departing fellows,
I wept too stealthily, and felt as if my soul was being torn apart.
Now after many years their descendents come and go,
Nobody receives or bids them farewell, nor do they bother anyone,
And each time they visit, they replace on the gate,
The rusty lock with the new one.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Ugolino
INFERNO 33, 22-75.
Now had the loophole of that dungeon, still
Which bears the name of Famine's Tower from me,
And where ’tis fit that many another will
Be doomed to linger in captivity,
Shown through its narrow opening in my cell
‘Moon after moon slow waning’, when a sleep,
‘That of the future burst the veil, in dream
Visited me. It was a slumber deep
And evil; for I saw, or I did seem’
To see, ‘that’ tyrant Lord his revels keep
The leader of the cruel hunt to them,
Chasing the wolf and wolf-cubs up the steep
Ascent, that from ‘the Pisan is the screen’
Of ‘Lucca’; with him Gualandi came,
Sismondi, and Lanfranchi, ‘bloodhounds lean,
Trained to the sport and eager for the game
Wide ranging in his front;’ but soon were seen
Though by so short a course, with ‘spirits tame,’
The father and ‘his whelps’ to flag at once,
And then the sharp fangs gored their bosoms deep.
Ere morn I roused myself, and heard my sons,
For they were with me, moaning in their sleep,
And begging bread. Ah, for those darling ones!
Right cruel art thou, if thou dost not weep
In thinking of my soul’s sad augury;
And if thou weepest not now, weep never more!
They were already waked, as wont drew nigh
The allotted hour for food, and in that hour
Each drew a presage from his dream. When I
‘Heard locked beneath me of that horrible tower
The outlet; then into their eyes alone
I looked to read myself,’ without a sign
Or word. I wept not—turned within to stone.
They wept aloud, and little Anselm mine,
Said—’twas my youngest, dearest little one,--
“What ails thee, father? Why look so at thine?”
In all that day, and all the following night,
I wept not, nor replied; but when to shine
Upon the world, not us, came forth the light
Of the new sun, and thwart my prison thrown
Gleamed through its narrow chink, a doleful sight,
‘Three faces, each the reflex of my own,
Were imaged by its faint and ghastly ray;’
Then I, of either hand unto the bone,
Gnawed, in my agony; and thinking they
Twas done from sudden pangs, in their excess,
All of a sudden raise themselves, and say,
“Father! our woes, so great, were yet the less
Would you but eat of us,—twas ‘you who clad
Our bodies in these weeds of wretchedness;
Despoil them’.” Not to make their hearts more sad,
I ‘hushed’ myself. That day is at its close,--
Another—still we were all mute. Oh, had
The obdurate earth opened to end our woes!
The fourth day dawned, and when the new sun shone,
Outstretched himself before me as it rose
My Gaddo, saying, “Help, father! hast thou none
For thine own child—is there no help from thee?”
He died—there at my feet—and one by one,
I saw them fall, plainly as you see me.
Between the fifth and sixth day, ere twas dawn,
I found ‘myself blind-groping o’er the three.’
Three days I called them after they were gone.
Famine of grief can get the mastery.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Agony of the old
Had I died as a lad, my parents would have wept.
Had I died as a man, my children and wife would have wept.
Had I died ere my wife, my wife would have wept.
A widower, an invalid, a cumbersome,
When I die who will have wept?
28.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Promised to Be Kept To Keep
Secrets...
That are kept,
Are secrets...
That may be wept.
To leave one with nights,
Unslept without rest.
Although promised to be kept to keep.
And secrets...
Left,
In a protectiveness...
Never regretted to forget,
Are kept secrets...
Wept.
One wishes to have ever met.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Love and Life at the Sea shore
A castle was built with sands
Many moments of love and care,
At the sea shore, how he dared?
But the boy brought it up with his hands.
A big wave brought it down.
It didn’t last, his moments of joy
How a blow could destroy
Saw the boy, his castle drowned.
He wept for long but stood up again.
Love and dreams, those around you
Bring you back in life too.
Collecting shells drove him when.
poem by Kingshuk Chakraborty
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Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: LVI
Who has not wept with Manon? Of all tales
That thrill youth's fancy or to tears or mirth
None other is there where such grief prevails,
Such passionate pity for the loves of Earth.
Who has not wept with Manon in her sin,
Wept in her punishment? What angry heart
Has been unmoved in youth to see her win
With those sad archers to the inhuman cart?
Who has not followed her beyond the seas,
And sold his life for her, and bowed his pride,
And sinned all sins to buy her back to ease,
And died all deaths to venge her when she died?
And I, blest boy, who each new happy night
When all was done still lived in her delight!
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Chevalier d'industrie
One night,
one blissful night...
you crept inside my soul;
you stole my heart and went away
so far
that when the sun shone bright that day,
I cried just to find you
to take my heart
again.
I wept
with bitter tears...
praying where to find you
just to take my heart back again
because
my heart does not belong to you.
It belongs to the man
who slept with me
that night.
14Sep2012
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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Love! Where Are You
You left!
I wept!
I love you!
I can feel
Your love too
Even miles apart
I know too well that
Love is that of heart
But, but, but,
What to do?
Body aches! ! ! !
poem by Sathya Narayana
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The Lover And The Moon
A LOVER whom duty called over the wave,
With himself communed: 'Will my love be true
If left to herself? Had I better not sue
Some friend to watch over her, good and grave?
But my friend might fail in my need,' he said,
'And I return to find love dead.
Since friendships fade like the flow'rs of June,
I will leave her in charge of the stable moon.'
Then he said to the moon: 'O dear old moon,
Who for years and years from thy throne above
Hast nurtured and guarded young lovers and love,
My heart has but come to its waiting June,
And the promise time of the budding vine;
Oh, guard thee well this love of mine.'
And he harked him then while all was still,
And the pale moon answered and said, 'I will.'
And he sailed in his ship o'er many seas,
And he wandered wide o'er strange far strands:
in isles of the south and in Orient lands,
Where pestilence lurks in the breath of the breeze.
But his star was high, so he braved the main,
And sailed him blithely home again;
And with joy he bended his footsteps soon
To learn of his love from the matron moon.
She sat as of yore, in her olden place,
Serene as death, in her silver chair.
A white rose gleamed in her whiter hair,
And the tint of a blush was on her face.
At sight of the youth she sadly bowed
And hid her face 'neath a gracious cloud.
She faltered faint on the night's dim marge,
But 'How,' spoke the youth, 'have you kept your charge?'
The moon was sad at a trust ill-kept;
The blush went out in her blanching cheek,
And her voice was timid and low and weak,
As she made her plea and sighed and wept.
'Oh, another prayed and another plead,
And I couldn't resist,' she answering said;
'But love still grows in the hearts of men:
Go forth, dear youth, and love again.'
But he turned him away from her proffered grace.
'Thou art false, O moon, as the hearts of men,
I will not, will not love again.'
And he turned sheer 'round with a soul-sick face
To the sea, and cried: 'Sea, curse the moon,
Who makes her vows and forgets so soon.'
And the awful sea with anger stirred,
And his breast heaved hard as he lay and heard.
And ever the moon wept down in rain,
And ever her sighs rose high in wind;
But the earth and sea were deaf and blind,
And she wept and sighed her griefs in vain.
And ever at night, when the storm is fierce,
The cries of a wraith through the thunders pierce;
And the waves strain their awful hands on high
To tear the false moon from the sky.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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For Jami
My dear Jami
When I thought
I had began to love you
More than I had loved
Any other girlfriend
White or black
Before you,
I decided it was time you left
For I knew I was about to enter
The most difficult period of my life
And I wanted to suffer alone.
.
But then, I would've liked
You to wait for me
While I consulted
With the keepers of solitude -
The oracle of the poets;
And you wept,
And I wept when you weren't looking;
We loved each other so,
Then I changed my mind again
And thought I had better come
To America.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Lucasta Weeping
I.
Lucasta wept, and still the bright
Inamour'd god of day,
With his soft handkercher of light,
Kist the wet pearles away.
II.
But when her teares his heate or'ecame,
In cloudes he quensht his beames,
And griev'd, wept out his eye of flame,
So drowned her sad streames.
III.
At this she smiled, when straight the sun
Cleer'd by her kinde desires;
And by her eyes reflexion
Fast kindl'd there his fires.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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Passion And Love
A MAIDEN wept and, as a comforter,
Came one who cried, 'I love thee,' and he seized
Her in his arms and kissed her with hot breath,
That dried the tears upon her flaming cheeks.
While evermore his boldly blazing eye
Burned into hers; but she uncomforted
Shrank from his arms and only wept the more.
Then one came and gazed mutely in her face
With wide and wistful eyes; but still aloof
He held himself; as with a reverent fear,
As one who knows some sacred presence nigh.
And as she wept he mingled tear with tear,
That cheered her soul like dew a dusty flower, —
Until she smiled, approached, and touched his hand!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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