Along The Sorrow
Fire in kidneys
was burning the basket.
Privacy of green thumbs
was intimately involved.
Let us share the candle light march
for the blossoms,
who would not stay
for old birds,
Read me again the epitaph
of the martyr, who wanted to remain
unsung, for the sorrow of
the flowing river.
Frenzy of a lone wolf was
inconsolable, when the dam spilled
the dead wood on the empty
bed of roses.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Lone Wolf
I am a lone wolf
I always was and will be
I feel fine, I am resigned to this
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
Got my cares
Wrapped up all nice and neat
In my suitcase
Ill take it down the street
To a place with plenty of space for me
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
It blows my mind
That people wanna try to get inside my tired head
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
I am a lone wolf
Nobody needs to get too close to me
Youll only see this truth
I am a lone wolf
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Through The Wood
THROUGH the wood, the green wood, the wet wood, the light wood,
Love and I went maying a thousand lives ago;
Shafts of golden sunlight had made a golden bright wood
In my heart reflected, because I loved you so.
Through the wood, the chill wood, the brown wood, the bare wood,
I alone went lonely no later than last year,
What had thinned the branches, and wrecked my dear and fair wood,
Killed the pale wild roses and left the rose-thorns sere?
Through the wood, the dead wood, the sad wood, the lone wood,
Winds of winter shiver through lichens old and grey,
You ride past forgetting the wood that was our own wood
All our own--and withered as ever a flower of May.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Shade Of The Green Wood
In the shade of the green wood
The holly does grow,
While in soft rays of sunlight
The wild roses glow,
And I smell their sweet perfume
That gently floats by,
Past trees strong and mighty
That reach to the sky,
The pathway of gold autumn
Leaves still remain,
As I walk through the green wood again.
In the shade of the green wood
This bright sunny morn,
That's so cool in the shadows
A new day is born,
All the birds in the treetops
Are singing for me,
Sweet songs of the summer
Which fill me with glee,
And know from its beauty
I never shall part,
For the green wood does live in my heart.
In the shade of the green wood
A soft gentle breeze,
Now caresses the branches
And whispers through trees,
A sound reassuring
Shall carry me to,
All the scenes that exist
In each marvellous view,
It's here that my spirit
Shall always now stay,
And the green wood is guiding my way.
poem by Andrew Blakemore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Candle
there is this candle in my heart
and it is burning
like my yearning
that is empty and wanting
to be filled
like a basin wanting
to have water
from the rain
there is this void
that can not be filled
there is this mouth
that speaks about
my beloved
i like this candle
i like this fire
and see, i am burning with
desire
i like too the rain
that falls on my basin
see
i am a candle burning
with desire
swimming on the water
never dead
never quenched
never stopping
see, you are with me
never sleeping
wanting some more
see, we are dreaming
we are alive
we are these candles
burning
turning into a wildfire.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ironical
Sky drank the moon
when night was cool.
A lone tree on roadside
waits for the prowling wolf
to steal the electric skin
like the veins on the breast.
River was flowing
nudging, cleaving the rising frenzy.
Still the thirst does not sink
like the torpedoed sub.
A dropp contains million faces of a moon.
A moon does not have a drop.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Candles
Faith for reasons still unknown
Like bleak house fog seems everywhere
The truth has frozen into stone
And hope lies freezing in the midnight air
Though dark our days may seem
This is a different dream
Their freedom light dont shine at all
So I will light a candle for you
Keep it burning in the night
And pray that you are all right
I will light a candle for you
Little candle burning bright
When school yard heroes disappeared
The little girl, she stands alone
Oh I believe you if you say
A prayer can help to get her home
So I will light a candle for you
Keep it burning in the night
And pray that you are all right
I will light a candle for you
Little candle burning bright
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Daring
If I burn the candle at both ends
and don't extinguish the flame
will I only fool myself into thinking
that things will stay the same?
Things can never remain forever
when you play with fire.
But ah! , the pleasure while the candle's burning
is all that I desire.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alone, Looking for Blossoms Along the River
this path mom walked
to market each morn
she must have loved the flowers by the river too
inspired by
Alone, Looking for Blossoms Along the River
The sorrow of riverside blossoms inexplicable,
And nowhere to complain - I've gone half crazy.
I look up our southern neighbor. But my friend in wine
Gone ten days drinking. I find only an empty bed.
A thick frenzy of blossoms shrouding the riverside,
I stroll, listing dangerously, in full fear of spring.
Poems, wine - even this profusely driven, I endure.
Arrangements for this old, white-haired man can wait.
A deep river, two or three houses in bamboo quiet,
And such goings on: red blossoms glaring with white!
Among spring's vociferous glories, I too have my place:
With a lovely wine, bidding life's affairs bon voyage.
Looking east to Shao, its smoke filled with blossoms,
I admire that stately Po-hua wineshop even more.
To empty golden wine cups, calling such beautiful
Dancing girls to embroidered mats - who could bear it?
East of the river, before Abbot Huang's grave,
Spring is a frail splendor among gentle breezes.
In this crush of peach blossoms opening ownerless,
Shall I treasure light reds, or treasure them dark?
At Madame Huang's house, blossoms fill the paths:
Thousands, tens of thousands haul the branches down.
And butterflies linger playfully - an unbroken
Dance floating to songs orioles sing at their ease.
I don't so love blossoms I want to die. I'm afraid,
Once they are gone, of old age still more impetuous.
And they scatter gladly, by the branchful. Let's talk
Things over, little buds -open delicately, sparingly.
Tu Fu
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Assets
O flowing river feed the well
Before you leave and say: “farewell”
You've gone away, the well is dry
I often ask and wonder why
It’s just a hole, an empty shell
O flowing river feed the well
You said that you would never end
And I believed you were a friend
I love that well, there is no doubt
It’s since dried up and left a drought
O flowing river feed the well
And keep me safe within your spell
The river’s gone, the well dried up
It left me with an empty cup
I'm lost in this financial hell
O flowing river feed the well
poem by Amera Andersen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alone, Looking for Blossoms Along the River
The sorrow of riverside blossoms inexplicable,
And nowhere to complain -- I've gone half crazy.
I look up our southern neighbor. But my friend in wine
Gone ten days drinking. I find only an empty bed.
A thick frenzy of blossoms shrouding the riverside,
I stroll, listing dangerously, in full fear of spring.
Poems, wine -- even this profusely driven, I endure.
Arrangements for this old, white-haired man can wait.
A deep river, two or three houses in bamboo quiet,
And such goings on: red blossoms glaring with white!
Among spring's vociferous glories, I too have my place:
With a lovely wine, bidding life's affairs bon voyage.
Looking east to Shao, its smoke filled with blossoms,
I admire that stately Po-hua wineshop even more.
To empty golden wine cups, calling such beautiful
Dancing girls to embroidered mats -- who could bear it?
East of the river, before Abbot Huang's grave,
Spring is a frail splendor among gentle breezes.
In this crush of peach blossoms opening ownerless,
Shall I treasure light reds, or treasure them dark?
At Madame Huang's house, blossoms fill the paths:
Thousands, tens of thousands haul the branches down.
And butterflies linger playfully -- an unbroken
Dance floating to songs orioles sing at their ease.
I don't so love blossoms I want to die. I'm afraid,
Once they are gone, of old age still more impetuous.
And they scatter gladly, by the branchful. Let's talk
Things over, little buds ---open delicately, sparingly.
Alone, Looking For Blossoms Along The River
The sorrow of riverside blossoms inexplicable,
And nowhere to complain -- I've gone half crazy.
I look up our southern neighbor. But my friend in wine
Gone ten days drinking. I find only an empty bed.
A thick frenzy of blossoms shrouding the riverside,
I stroll, listing dangerously, in full fear of spring.
Poems, wine -- even this profusely driven, I endure.
Arrangements for this old, white-haired man can wait.
A deep river, two or three houses in bamboo quiet,
And such goings on: red blossoms glaring with white!
Among spring's vociferous glories, I too have my place:
With a lovely wine, bidding life's affairs bon voyage.
Looking east to Shao, its smoke filled with blossoms,
I admire that stately Po-hua wineshop even more.
To empty golden wine cups, calling such beautiful
Dancing girls to embroidered mats -- who could bear it?
East of the river, before Abbot Huang's grave,
Spring is a frail splendor among gentle breezes.
In this crush of peach blossoms opening ownerless,
Shall I treasure light reds, or treasure them dark?
At Madame Huang's house, blossoms fill the paths:
Thousands, tens of thousands haul the branches down.
And butterflies linger playfully -- an unbroken
Dance floating to songs orioles sing at their ease.
I don't so love blossoms I want to die. I'm afraid,
Once they are gone, of old age still more impetuous.
And they scatter gladly, by the branchful. Let's talk
Things over, little buds -- open delicately, sparingly.
poem by Du Fu
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Beyond The Gray Sky
It is a gift I know
A moment of bliss that we hold
A firecracker flash of light then on
To the next plane soul remain
Come along if you dare
It's gonna be that you're scared
Lovely life I thank you
For the reason to see the pain through
Light a candle for the dead
The wick is burning returning what we have
It's who we are
We'll reach you if you're beyond the furthest star
Don't give up the fight to stay alive and even if
you have to
Find the reason of another's pain if they lose you
If not for your self then those around who care
like I do
One day you'll see the clear blue
Beyond the Gray Sky
Light a candle...
The wick...
It's who we are...
One day you'll see the clear blue
Beyond the Gray Sky
I can't believe you didn't call
What made you want to end it all
Wasn't there something I should have tried
To help you see beyond the gray sky
song performed by by 311
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eternity Of Passion
Chocolate wine and roses have all
left my heart without bliss, the chocolate
inwhich was ment to sweeten my heart
the wine was to mellow my soul and melt
me in your arms, while the aroma of the
roses filled the air, but why did they
have such painfull thorns..
You light a candle and looked into my
eyes so intently, your glaze was burning
my very soul, never will I forget the night
of Chocolate, Wine, Roses, and the ever
burning candle that flickered all night
Only you could find this romantic side of me
that you discovered for the first time but lasted
an etrerntiy of Passion...........
poem by Bonnie Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Like Unsung Heroes
'Tis of the unsung heroes I wish to hear
Their names in the newspapers never appear
They don't seek the praise and they don't seek the fame
They keep a low profile few know them by name.
Like the teenager who saved the young girl from the house fire
About him there is so much for to admire
To save someone else's life he did risk his own
Yet the anonymous hero remains as unknown.
Her parents wish to thank him the one they do not know
But for the deserved plaudits he has failed for to show
For to bask in the limelight does not seem his way
As an anonymous unsung hero he would prefer to stay.
I like unsung heroes though unsung they remain
From their acts of unselfishness and bravery they do not wish to gain
Like the teenage house fire hero he surely is brave
The life of a five year old girl he did save.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stay With Me Tonight
The candle is burning low;
you say that it is time for you to go.
My eyes and heart plead,
stay with me tonight,
and let us share the early morning light
together as one.
Stay with me tonight;
let our love and passion flow,
no one will ever know.
Just stay with me tonight.
25 June 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inconsolable Man
These days Im looking like a pitiful sight
Got a suicide smile on my face every night
I walk alone
Talk to myself
Shout angry words up to the sky
People stop and stare
Like Im out of my head
But what do they know
About the tears that I cry
And I cry yes I cry and thats why
Oooh oooh Im an inconsolable man
Oooh oooh since shes gone away thats what I am
Oooh oooh Im an inconsolable man
Nobody understands
An inconsolable man
I stop into a church and I waste another prayer
Well if theres someone listen to me
No ones talkin up there
So I walk down a street
Where lonely men sleep
With what money can buy
I tell myself that life aint over just yet
I can learn to forget if only I try
And I try and I try but its a lie
Oooh oooh Im an inconsolable man
Oooh oooh since shes gone away thats what I am
Oooh oooh Im an inconsolable man
Nobody understands
An inconsolable man
Nobody
Nobody
Nobody understands
And inconsolable man
Oooh oooh Im an inconsolable man
Oooh oooh since shes gone away thats what I am
Oooh oooh Im an inconsolable man
Nobody understands
An inconsolable man
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Astigmatism
The Poet took his walking-stick
Of fine and polished ebony.
Set in the close-grained wood
Were quaint devices;
Patterns in ambers,
And in the clouded green of jades.
The top was smooth, yellow ivory,
And a tassel of tarnished gold
Hung by a faded cord from a hole
Pierced in the hard wood,
Circled with silver.
For years the Poet had wrought upon this cane.
His wealth had gone to enrich it,
His experiences to pattern it,
His labour to fashion and burnish it.
To him it was perfect,
A work of art and a weapon,
A delight and a defence.
The Poet took his walking-stick
And walked abroad.
Peace be with you, Brother.
The Poet came to a meadow.
Sifted through the grass were daisies,
Open-mouthed, wondering, they gazed at the sun.
The Poet struck them with his cane.
The little heads flew off, and they lay
Dying, open-mouthed and wondering,
On the hard ground.
"They are useless. They are not roses," said the Poet.
Peace be with you, Brother. Go your ways.
The Poet came to a stream.
Purple and blue flags waded in the water;
In among them hopped the speckled frogs;
The wind slid through them, rustling.
The Poet lifted his cane,
And the iris heads fell into the water.
They floated away, torn and drowning.
"Wretched flowers," said the Poet,
"They are not roses."
Peace be with you, Brother. It is your affair.
The Poet came to a garden.
Dahlias ripened against a wall,
Gillyflowers stood up bravely for all their short stature,
And a trumpet-vine covered an arbour
With the red and gold of its blossoms.
Red and gold like the brass notes of trumpets.
The Poet knocked off the stiff heads of the dahlias,
And his cane lopped the gillyflowers at the ground.
Then he severed the trumpet-blossoms from their stems.
Red and gold they lay scattered,
Red and gold, as on a battle field;
Red and gold, prone and dying.
"They were not roses," said the Poet.
Peace be with you, Brother.
But behind you is destruction, and waste places.
The Poet came home at evening,
And in the candle-light
He wiped and polished his cane.
The orange candle flame leaped in the yellow ambers,
And made the jades undulate like green pools.
It played along the bright ebony,
And glowed in the top of cream-coloured ivory.
But these things were dead,
Only the candle-light made them seem to move.
"It is a pity there were no roses," said the Poet.
Peace be with you, Brother. You have chosen your part.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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~ Epitapoetry ~
~ EPITAPOETRY ~
Ms. Nivedita
UK
February 6,2009.
WELL, SHE CAN’'T SAY...
CAN....GUESS...?
BUT WILL BE...
WHAT...?
STILL WITH A BUT...!
SHE IS MELTING...
LIKE DICHOTOMUS CANDLE...
THE OFT DESTINY...
OF AN UNSUNG...
WHO’S COPULSION...
STAY UNKNOWN...
POETRY IN BREAST...
LOOKING FOR A ‘LOVE WOMB’...
TO BE EMBRYOED AGAIN...
TO GET A CARE OF MOTHER...
FOR HER LOVE...POETRY…
LONG AND LONG...
WHO WILL SORROUGATE HER…
'LOVE WOMB'...? ?
UNENDINGLY...
CEASELESSLY...
LIKE EV’R FLOWING RIVER...
BUT NOT IN HEART...
HEATRS ARE…
WORDLESS…
TRUSTLESS...
HUMU RLESS...
PARCHED SAND...
WHY...? ? ?
SHE CARES NOT TO KNOW…!
LO! EMBRYOD…! !
WHERE E’ER CONVERSING…
ARGUMENTATING SOLLIQUIZING …
WITH CONSCIOUS SUBCONSCIOUS…
ON FUTILITY UTILITY FUTURE …
OR EPITAPH OF POETRY…?
BYTES AFTER BYTES…
NIGHTS AFTER NIGHTS…
FINALLY POETRY CEDED …
WALKOVER MINUS STOPOV’R…
TO EPHITAP…
UNDECIDED LAST LINE…
'EV’RUNBORN EPITAPOETRY'
BYTES AFTER BYTES…
NIGHTS AFTER NIGHTS…!
----
Copyright reserved by the author
poem by Ms. Nivedita Bagchi Spc. Uk.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Islands
(mike oldfield)
Producer for bonnie: mike oldfield
Recorded in 1987 for mike oldfields album islands, lyrics taken from careful listening.
Islands
From the first time we saw
We could wait for this moment
Like rocks on the shore
We could never be closer somehow
For the moment that lasts
Is this moment now
When the nights on fire
Oh, will you keep the candle-light burning
Hold onto your hearts desire
(hearts on fire)
When you see one bird into the wind
Another ones turning
And the two can fly much higher
(higher)
Chorus:
We are islands
But never too far
We are islands
And I need your light tonight
And I need your light tonight...(x2)
Islands
Never been to before
And we climb so high
To where the wild birds soar
Theres a new path
That we found just today
I was lost in the forest
And you showed me the way
When the nights on fire
Oh, will you keep the candle-light burning
Hold onto your hearts desire
(hearts on fire)
When you see one bird into the wind
Another ones turning
And the two can fly much higher
(higher)
Chorus x 4
song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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River of sorrow
Rivers are like the life we share,
Sometimes we go fast,
Sometimes we go slow,
My river is slow and filled with sorrow,
It seems endless,
Never turns and always follows the same path,
Far from anyone or any place,
Alone my river stands and alone it shall stay,
The sorrowful river with a path so untold,
Will my river of sorrow ever cross paths with one other,
poem by Samantha Guinen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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