Nothing Of Value
I hang up antiquated quill,
to fill taskmaster till.
All I know dearly bought,
comes to nullified nought.
No negotiable reward remains,
to sustain, ordained writings wrought.
So fruitless frustrated search,
belies, an inspired image sought.
Is nothing lasting learned,
is nothing timely taught?
Diligent inspired dutiful labour,
but wasted, wash-out thought.
Life stagnates
stupefied on,
nothing of virtuous,
virtuoso, value bought?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Verbal Tapestry
Such tapestries of magic wrought
by masters of their chosen art;
whose measured worth cannot be bought.
Within this place wizardry's taught
and each magician plays a part
in tapestries of magic wrought.
A diverse and bewitching lot,
some sassy, saucy, suave and smart;
whose measured worth cannot be bought.
Across the zones of time and thought
they serve poetic a-la-carte.
with tapestries of magic wrought.
With grace a moment can be caught
by artists of the quill and heart,
whose measured worth cannot be bought.
And with fresh, enchanting thought
this simple wizard makes a start
at tapestries of magic wrought.
whose measured worth cannot be bought.
poem by John Roche
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Life's Mighty Flood
WHAT is wrought in the forge of the living and life--
All things are nought! Ho! fill me the bowl,
For nought is the gear of the world and the strife!
One passion has quickened the heart and the soul,
The Beloved's presence alone they have sought--
Love at least exists; yet if Love were not,
Heart and soul would sink to the common lot--
All things are nought!
Like an empty cup is the fate of each,
That each must fill from Life's mighty flood;
Nought thy toil, though to Paradise gate thou reach,
If Another has filled up thy cup with blood;
Neither shade from the sweet-fruited trees could be bought
By thy praying-oh Cypress of Truth, dost not see
That Sidreh and Tuba were nought, and to thee
All then were nought!
The span of thy life is as five little days,
Brief hours and swift in this halting-place;
Rest softly, ah rest! while the Shadow delays,
For Time's self is nought and the dial's face.
On the lip of Oblivion we linger, and short
Is the way from the Lip to the Mouth where we pass
While the moment is thine, fill, oh Saki, the glass
Ere all is nought!
Consider the rose that breaks into flower,
Neither repines though she fade and die--
The powers of the world endure for an hour,
But nought shall remain of their majesty.
Be not too sure of your crown, you who thought
That virtue was easy and recompense yours;
From the monastery to the wine-tavern doors
The way is nought
What though I, too, have tasted the salt of my tears,
Though I, too, have burnt in the fires of grief,
Shall I cry aloud to unheeding ears?
Mourn and be silent! nought brings relief.
Thou, Hafiz, art praised for the songs thou hast wrought,
But bearing a stained or an honoured name,
The lovers of wine shall make light of thy fame--
All things are nought!
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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First Loves
Always our first love
is the one we remember most.
That love that seemed beyond our grasp
and always got away.
I remember my first love
and all the things I did to woo her.
The love letters that took
half a dozen envelopes to send,
and the things I bought her
that were all in vain.
We talked to one another
and that’s as far as it got,
no hugs and kisses there.
Then as fast as she entered my life,
she was gone from it.
I heard a few stories,
but never saw her again.
She alone has inspired
so many writings in my life
that I would dearly love to meet her just once again.
I have often thought of writing
to the old address where she lived,
but I know she doesn’t liver there anymore.
What happened to her
I could never rightly say,
for all I know
she could live a half a world away.
However, wherever she is after forty years
I still remember her
as if it were yesterday.
I guess that’s how some of our first loves go,
slipping through our fingers
like tiny grains of sand.
Leaving us with only memories
of what our life might have been.
16-17 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Thou Blind Man's Mark
Thou blind man's mark, thou fool's self chosen snare,
Fond fancy's scum, and dregs of scatter'd thought,
Band of all evils, cradle of causeless care,
Thou web of will,whose end is never wrought.
Desire, desire I have too dearly bought,
With price of mangled mind thy worthless ware,
Too long, too long asleep thou hast me brought,
Who should my mind to higher things prepare.
But yet in vain thou hast my ruin sought,
In vain thou madest me to vain things aspire,
In vain thou kindlest all thy smoky fire.
For virtue hath this better lesson taught,
Within myself to seek my only hire:
Desiring nought but how to kill desire.
poem by Philip Sidney
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The Buyers
Father drank himself to death,--
Quite enjoyed it.
Urged to draw a sober breath
He'd avoid it.
'Save your sympathy,' said Dad;
'Never sought it.
Hob-nail liver, gay and glad,
Sure,--I bought it.'
Uncle made a heap of dough,
Ponies playing.
'Easy come and easy go,'
Was his saying.
Though he died in poverty
Fit he thought it,
Grinning with philosophy:
'Guess I bought it.'
Auntie took the way of sin,
Seeking pleasure;
Lovers came, her heart to win,
Bringing treasure.
Sickness smote,--with lips that bled
Brave she fought it;
Smiling on her dying bed:
'Dears, I bought it.'
My decades of life are run,
Eight precisely;
Yet I've lost a lot of fun
Living wisely.
Too much piety don't pay,
Time has taught it;
Hadn't guts to go astray;
Life's a bloody bore today,--
Well, I've bought it.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Covenant
We thought we ranked above the chance of ill.
Others might fall, not we, for we were wise--
Merchants in freedom. So, of our free-will
We let our servants drug our strength with lies.
The pleasure and the poison had its way
On us as on the meanest, till we learned
That he who lies will steal, who steals will slay.
Neither God's judgment nor man's heart was turned.
Yet there remains His Mercy--to be sought
Through wrath and peril till we cleanse the wrong
By that last right which our forefathers claimed
When their Law failed them and its stewards were bought.
This is our cause. God help us, and make strong
Our will to meet Him later, unashamed!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Covenant
1914
We thought we ranked above the chance of ill.
Others might fall, not we, for we were wise--
Merchants in freedom. So, of our free-will
We let our servants drug our strength with lies.
The pleasure and the poison had its way
On us as on the meanest, till we learned
That he who lies will steal, who steals will slay.
Neither God's judgment nor man's heart was turned.
Yet there remains His Mercy--to be sought
Through wrath and peril till we cleanse the wrong
By that last right which our forefathers claimed
When their Law failed them and its stewards were bought.
This is our cause. God help us, and make strong
Our will to meet Him later, unashamed!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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A Singing Lesson
Far-fetched and dear-bought, as the proverb rehearses,
Is good, or was held so, for ladies: but nought
In a song can be good if the turn of the verse is
Far-fetched and dear-bought.
As the turn of a wave should it sound, and the thought
Ring smooth, and as light as the spray that disperses
Be the gleam of the words for the garb thereof wrought.
Let the soul in it shine through the sound as it pierces
Men's hearts with possession of music unsought;
For the bounties of song are no jealous god's mercies,
Far-fetched and dear-bought.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Am Inspired, Are You?
inspiration is not desired
to be inspired
it is discovered
and authored
it is rewarded
and guarded
by the power to live
the hour to give
an inspired
soul a sense to express,
so, i am inspired
now,
are you?
if so,
spread your wings
and fly
within you,
reach out your hands
and touch the sky
(and beyond)
stay motivated
and inspired...
if not, ask why not yourself?
why not you inspired from yours' sense?
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Mom's My Hero
I've now concluded
after giving it much thought;
For all people a hero is sought.
Inspired by many,
some more so than another.
But none so much as my dear Mother.
It's taken these years
to realize her full impact,
But she's my hero and that's a fact.
She showed us love,
and taught us wrong from right,
Always keeping our future in sight.
Being a single mom,
She taught me to endure
And of my self to be sure.
She taught love of God above
and fear of Satan below.
No doubt... My mom is my hero!!!
poem by Beau Burkett
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Freedom's Theme
What is the theme of freedom?
Life,
Love,
Happiness,
Contentment.
Is this so?
Can freedom be these,
Our best,
The good things in life?
Or is freedom more?
Is freedom the blood with which it is bought?
Is freedom the evils which our men have suffered
To bring it to us?
Freedom's theme,
Sung through the ages,
Is sacrifice,
And pain,
For happiness dearly bought.
Freedom's theme
Is a hymn of praise
To the God who smiled on us,
And gave us America.
Freedom's theme
Is life, earned by death.
It is love, in power,
Spurned by the hate of the centuries.
It is contentment, with the shouts of thanksgiving,
For all God has blessed us with.
Freedom's theme-
Praise, joy, love,
Should be the song on our tongues always:
Thanksgiving to God for this privilege,
Dearly bought.
poem by James Grengs
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The Purchase Has Been Declared Effective
When anything is bought,
It is owned and not sought...
To share.
Or thought to belong to anyone else,
But the one who purchases...
Whatever it is that is there,
To use productively or left to sit.
And the controlling of it,
Has nothing to do with one's intelligence.
When anything is bought as is,
To document to transfer an ownership...
It doesn't matter who sells out,
To later mouth about it.
The purchase has been lobbied and declared effective.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Shunting
Shunting, hunt, hut, hunting, tin, gin, sin, it, is, in, sun, guns, sing;
And like the muse of war! !
But be very wise to choose from the right things always.
Shunting, hunts, huts, sund, hung, tins, unit, sit, hit, in, Inn, gun;
With words of peace in the land of war!
But be very wise to choose from the right things always.
Brought, bought, fought, ought, drought, wrought, nought, sought, thought;
And like beautiful doors and windows!
But be very wise to choose from the right things alway! !
because, not all that glitters is gold.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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My Nordic Christmas Story
I bought boots for Christmas to tread the icy plains.
I bought toys for Christmas with Santas in my trains.
I lit my home for Christmas with a Cedar bright.
I made cup cakes for Christmas for my love's delight.
I bought Jane a dress for Christmas with ribbons pink.
I bought for my grandma a cozy Christmas mink.
I bought for Jill two amazing Christmas Sparrows.
I bought for Jack a toy quiver full of arrows.
I bought an Elk for Christmas with nose giving light.
I bought for Christmas, candles for a solemn night.
I made for Christmas a warm and sweet lemonade,
and I sang on Christmas morn, a sweet Serenade.
poem by Joseph C Ogbonna (18 December 2020)
Submitted by Joseph C Ogbonna
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No permanent lover
When each dress I bought
I thought it was the best
That I had ever bought.
When each woman I love
I believe she is the dearest
That I have ever met.
Today stands the best
Till tomorrow replaces it.
No love is exc; usive.
25.03.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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By God
By God, we were sealed, when we were spiritually healed,
Sealed by The Savior Himself, His seal appears in stealth,
To all outside of Jesus Christ, but we’re sealed in this life,
In a New Life, God will reveal, in all, marked with His Seal.
By God, we were saved, when sinfully lost and depraved,
Saved by His Spirit above, through God’s wonderful love,
It was God, who loved us first, when we were at our worst,
In spite of how we behaved, by His Grace we were saved.
By God, we were sought, as new creations being wrought,
While we were not seeking Him, truly lost in a world of sin,
He not only found all of us, but, led us to The Lord Jesus,
By Whom, we were bought, saving all who He had sought.
By God, we were redeemed, unbelievable it really seemed,
Yet He bought us on earth, imputing to us His Son’s worth,
It is The Lord’s Righteousness, that God has granted to us,
His Righteousness is what beams, from those He redeems.
The Spirit’s seal is our guarantee, that we shall live eternally,
Saved out of this world of sin, God’s Spirit now lives within,
It was God Who sought His own, from His Heavenly Throne,
Redeeming men, in this life, to live forever with Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©02/2012)
Do You Feel Anything Loose?
You relied on intuition,
Which through perception...
You sought out to teach,
One you believed with ego...
A lesson.
And after doing so...
The one perceived with ego,
Had lessons to teach as well.
Inspired by those,
With similar quests to prove.
And the one lesson,
That has to remain on your mind...
As constant as your knack to judge a book,
By the appearance of its cover.
And...
The one lesson learned you recently was taught!
I can tell this by your lack of motivation to talk.
Someone you thought shallow...
Proved to you to be deep under the surface.
~Never assume you can feed yourself on perceptions.
You will die from starvation.~
You must enjoy knocking your head up against walls?
Do you feel anything loose?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Question Mark Seldom Sums Sweet Scented Rose
A question mark: love's spark? dark thoughts stark caught?
Quest or request? What wistful vista sketch
Uncertain decks fair face? Has some base wretch
Embarked upon seduction? Is change sought?
Sweet nothings? Transatlantic ticket bought
To guarantee dream destiny, wreath etch
In smiles, not care lines' sybilline twines? Fetch
Overseas another life well wrought?
Naught offers easy answer. Last resort?
Mortar, bricks, altar? Lonesome? Two mast ketch
A-sail upon life's tide? Short haul? Long stretch?
Reward? Loss taught? Eyes tender? taut? distraught?
Knowledge alone in rhyme flows, free verse, prose,
Seldom sums soft glows, sweet scented rose.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Hawarden
When comes the lighted day for men to read
Life's meaning, with the work before their hands
Till this good gift of breath from debt is freed,
Earth will not hear her children's wailful bands
Deplore the chieftain fall'n in sob and dirge;
Nor they look where is darkness, but on high.
The sun that dropped down our horizon's verge,
Illumes his labours through the travelled sky,
Now seen in sum, most glorious; and 'tis known
By what our warrior wrought we hold him fast.
A splendid image built of man has flown;
His deeds inspired of God outstep a Past.
Ours the great privilege to have had one
Among us who celestial tasks has done.
poem by George Meredith
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Stash
Im pulling the pavement from under my nails
I brush past a garden, dependent on whales
The sloping companion I cast down the ash
Yanked on my tunic and dangled my stash
Zipping through the forest with the curdling fleas
To grow with them spindles, the mutant I seize
I capture the dread beast who falls to his knees
And cries to his cohorts, asleep in the trees
Smegma, dogmatagram, fishmarket stew
Police in a corner, gunnin for you
Appletoast, bedheated, furblanket rat
Laugh when they shoot you, say
Please dont do that
Control for smilers cant be bought
The solar garlic starts to rot
Was it for this my life I sought?
Maybe so and maybe not (maybe so and maybe not) [4x]
Was it for this my life I sought? (maybe so and maybe not)
Control for smilers cant be bought (maybe so and maybe not)
The solar garlic starts to rot (maybe so and maybe not)
Was it for this my life I sought? (maybe so and maybe not) [4x]
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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