Buried in the Sand
A beggar clump adorns a dump, his pencil box in hand -
With sightless eyes upon the skies he's lying there unmanned.
He's fallen down in Shantytown, his knees too weak to stand,
With no relief and bitter grief too dark to understand.
The Bowery blight is hid from sight, it's covered up and bland,
And Robin Hood and Brother Hood lie buried in the sand.
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Rocket Robin Hood
Come gather around me. Space travelers surround me.
Hark now to the ballad of Rocket Robin Hood.
I may well confound you, astound you, spellbound you,
With heroes and villains, the bad and the good.
Watch now as our rockets race here from afar.
For now, with our Robin, we live on a star.
Three. Two. One. Blast off!
Band of brothers, marching together.
Heads held high in all kinds of weather.
With fiery blasts, our roaring rockets rise,
Beyond the Earth, beyond the skies!
At the sight of Robin, take your stand,
With the gallant leader of our band.
Send a joyous shout throughout the land!
For Rocket Robin Hood!
poem by Todd Steussie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Aura
The air was dark
The moon was dark
The night was dark
The cloud was dark
The heat was dark
The stars were black
The birds were black
The eyes were black
The shadows were black
The planes were black
A sound of night
The hearts of night
A chase at night
A fall at night
No help at night
The night is night
Where is my sight
I have no sight
Your light was sight
No light no sight
No one in sight
The dark in sight
Don't call my name
What's my name
They call my name
That's not my name
Who said its my name
I have no name
You took my same
It was our same
She was our same
She's now your same
Its all the same
I'm not the same
Judas and my hand
You took my hand
'I do' my hand
You kissed my hand
You broke my hand
You fell my hand
A tear in sand
A heart in sand
A body in sand
Alone in sand
A dust in sand
At home in sand.
poem by Jenim Dibie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hollywood
You talk so loud, you talk so much and you talk so funny
But honey, what are you talkin about
Something bout being, being reimbursed
For every unregistered virus
Drainpipes are filled up with dirty rain
And the leisure train is speeding in the diamond lane
With electricity shut off again
Leaving the night-life only for the madmen
Oh my god
Theyve sold hollywood
Burned down my neighborhood
Even shot robin hood
And oh my god
I guess it was never understood
To understand brotherhood
Right from wrong
And the bad from the good
Well, everybodys got their own smoke-screens
With personal armies for everyone in between
With plastic rifles given to every team
What a beautiful dream, even bullets have guarantees
And oh my god
Theyve sold hollywood
Burned down my neighborhood
Even shot robin hood
And oh my god
I guess it was never understood
To understand brotherhood
Right from wrong
And the bad from the good
Theres the sweetest evil image detector
As sweet as nectar, an overrated candy dispenser
She dont give food to eat or anybody, anyplace to sleep
But she can tell you, what you can and what you cant create
And oh my god
Theyve sold hollywood
Burned down my neighborhood
Even shot robin hood
Oh my god
I guess it was never understood
To understand brotherhood
Right from wrong
And the bad from the good
And oh my god
Theyve sold hollywood
Burned down my neighborhood
Even shot robin hood
And oh my god
Guess it was never understood
To understand brotherhood
Right from wrong
And the bad from the good
song performed by by Wallflowers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hollywood
You talk so loud, you talk so much and you talk so funny
But honey, what are you talkin about
Something bout being, being reimbursed
For every unregistered virus
Drainpipes are filled up with dirty rain
And the leisure train is speeding in the diamond lane
With electricity shut off again
Leaving the night-life only for the madmen
Oh my god
Theyve sold hollywood
Burned down my neighborhood
Even shot robin hood
And oh my god
I guess it was never understood
To understand brotherhood
Right from wrong
And the bad from the good
Well, everybodys got their own smoke-screens
With personal armies for everyone in between
With plastic rifles given to every team
What a beautiful dream, even bullets have guarantees
And oh my god
Theyve sold hollywood
Burned down my neighborhood
Even shot robin hood
And oh my god
I guess it was never understood
To understand brotherhood
Right from wrong
And the bad from the good
Theres the sweetest evil image detector
As sweet as nectar, an overrated candy dispenser
She dont give food to eat or anybody, anyplace to sleep
But she can tell you, what you can and what you cant create
And oh my god
Theyve sold hollywood
Burned down my neighborhood
Even shot robin hood
Oh my god
I guess it was never understood
To understand brotherhood
Right from wrong
And the bad from the good
And oh my god
Theyve sold hollywood
Burned down my neighborhood
Even shot robin hood
And oh my god
Guess it was never understood
To understand brotherhood
Right from wrong
And the bad from the good
song performed by by Wallflowers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ingerid Sletten
Ingerid Sletten of Sillejord
Neither gold nor silver did own,
But a little hood of gay wool alone,
Her mother had given of yore.
A little hood of gay wool alone,
With no braid nor lining, was here;
But parent love made it ever dear,
And brighter than gold it shone.
She kept the hood twenty years just so:
"Be it spotless," softly she cried,
"Until I shall wear it once as bride,
When I to the altar go."
She kept the hood thirty years just so:
"Be it spotless," softly she cried,
"Then wear it I will, a gladsome bride,
When it to our Lord I show."
She kept the hood forty years just so,
With her mother ever in mind.
"Little hood, be with me to this resigned,
That ne'er to the altar we'll go."
She steps to the chest where the hood has lain,
And seeks it with swelling heart;
She guides her hand to its place apart,--
But never a thread did remain.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Li'l Red Riding Hood
[howls]
Who's that I see walkin' in these woods?
Why it's Little Red Ridin' Hood
Hey there Little Red Riding Hood
You sure are lookin' good
You're everything a big bad wolf would want
Listen to me [howl]
Little Red Ridin' Hood
I don't think even big girls should
Go walkin' in these spooky old woods alone
[howls]
What big eyes you have
The kind of eyes that drive wolves mad
So, just to see that you don't get chased
I think I ought to walk with you for a way
What full lips you have
They're sure to lure someone bad
So, untill you get to grandma's place
I think you ought to walk, with me and be safe
I'm gonna keep my sheep suit on
Till I'm sure that you've been shown
That I can be trusted walkin' with you alone
[howls]
Little Red Ridin' Hood
I'd like to hold you if I could
But you might think I'm a big bad wolf, so I won't
[howls]
What a big heart I have
The better to love you with
Little Red Ridin' Hood
Even bad wolves can be good
I'll try to be satisfied
Just to walk close by your side
Maybe you'll see things my way
Before we get to grandma's place
Little Red Ridin' Hood
You sure are lookin' good
You're everything a big bad wolf could want
[howls]
(Baaa)
song performed by by Bowling For Soup
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Was This Man?
01/05/11
They didn’t know where he came from
No information could be found.
He just arrived - in the poor part of town.
They said he would appear when someone
Needed a hand, it was something
they could not understand.
Now! People’s faith was failing and
Everything seemed to be going wrong
But he would lift them up and
Encouraged them to be strong.
He was a bit different from
the others in the town.
Always with a hood, and had it pulled down.
The church was losing parishioners
And they had for quite some time.
Their faith was strong, but their minds were blind.
They needed something to touch the heart of man
Something that- could give a helping hand.
As the clergy thought about how
and what they could do.
This hooded man was looking for something too.
There was a family of eight who was
Being given a dispossess, he had to help them out
He knew he could not rest.
Parents with six children and not a bite to eat
To them a bag of potato chips, was really quite a treat.
He printed up circulars telling of their plight.
Asking the community to stand up and fight.
He created a meeting at the neighborhood church
He knew that it would get better
For it could not get much worse.
The church had not known of this meeting
When the people started to arrive.
This was the first time that people had to wait in line.
The preacher asked a parishioner:
What is this all about?
She then showed him the circular of this family s plight.
He then had a strange feeling, and his heart jumped with delight.
His prayers were being answered in a strange and blessed way.
He fell to his knees and he began to pray.
The people filled up the donation boxes
Until they overflowed, he had to call for some help
For it was a heavy load.
From the corner of his eye- he saw a figure
Blocking the entrance door,
And with a hood pulled down low.
It was a strange sight- it truly was a show.
He walked down the aisle to the preacher man
Looked up - then shook his hand.
He turned to the congregation and said:
HAVE FAITH IN ALL YOU DO
YOU CALLED OUT MY NAME AND I’VE
COME TO HELP YOU.
He took off his hood and just an aura of light was there
Then he vanished as quick as he appeared.
WHO WAS THIS MAN?
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Death of Robin Hood
"Give me my bow," said Robin Hood,
"An arrow give to me;
And where 't is shot mark thou that spot,
For there my grave shall be."
Then Little John did make no sign,
And not a word he spake;
But he smiled, altho' with mickle woe
His heart was like to break.
He raised his master in his arms,
And set him on his knee;
And Robin's eyes beheld the skies,
The shaws, the greenwood tree.
The brook was babbling as of old,
The birds sang full and clear,
And the wild-flowers gay like a carpet lay
In the path of the timid deer.
"O Little John," said Robin Hood,
"Meseemeth now to be
Standing with you so stanch and true
Under the greenwood tree.
"And all around I hear the sound
Of Sherwood long ago,
And my merry men come back again,--
You know, sweet friend, you know!
"Now mark this arrow; where it falls,
When I am dead dig deep,
And bury me there in the greenwood where
I would forever sleep."
He twanged his bow. Upon its course
The clothyard arrow sped,
And when it fell in yonder dell,
Brave Robin Hood was dead.
The sheriff sleeps in a marble vault,
The king in a shroud of gold;
And upon the air with a chanted pray'r
Mingles the mock of mould.
But the deer draw to the shady pool,
The birds sing blithe and free,
And the wild-flow'rs bloom o'er a hidden tomb
Under the greenwood tree.
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vespers
Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed,
Droops on the little hands little gold head.
Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares!
Christopher Robin is saying his prayers.
God bless Mummy. I know that's right.
Wasn't it fun in the bath to-night?
The cold's so cold, and the hot's so hot.
Oh! God bless Daddy - I quite forgot.
If I open my fingers a little bit more,
I can see Nanny's dressing-gown on the door.
It's a beautiful blue, but it hasn't a hood.
Oh! God bless Nanny and make her good.
Mine has a hood, and I lie in bed,
And pull the hood right over my head,
And I shut my eyes, and I curl up small,
And nobody knows that I'm there at all.
Oh! Thank you, God, for a lovely day.
And what was the other I had to say?
I said 'Bless Daddy,' so what can it be?
Oh! Now I remember it. God bless Me.
Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed,
Droops on the little hands little gold head.
Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares!
Christopher Robin is saying his prayers.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Egypt
Fantastic sleep is busy with my eyes;
I seem in some waste solitude to stand
Once ruled of Cheops; upon either hand
A dark illimitable desert lies,
Sultry and still -- a zone of mysteries.
A wide-browed Sphinx, half buried in the sand,
With orbless sockets stares across the land,
The wofulest thing beneath these brooding skies
Save that loose heap of bleachèd bones, that lie
Where haply some poor Bedouin crawled to die.
Lo! while I gaze, beyond the vast sand-sea
The nebulous clouds are downward slowly drawn,
And one bleared star, faint glimmering like a bee,
Is shut in the rosy outstretched hand of Dawn.
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Looking For Santa
We Dont need an analyst
its simple
a short cut to riches
the highest value
of Cinderella
was money
clothed
in a royal suit
we could play robin hood
shop lift for a friend
or purchase a lottery ticket
with our minimum wage check
hang over a bloody cock fight screaming
look for suckers to scam with deals
play robin hood and shop lift for a friend
something for nothing
thats
all we
want
Its all like the Walmart xmas tree
where Santa is the giver
blame it on god
or finger the devil
its only our self
we're left with
and we're not even evil
just misinformed or confused
to want something for nothing
and believe it exists
poem by Barbara Hilal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whether it be so or not, husband, put on your hood. (He had told her there was a new law that every man with horns should wear a hood.)
Robin Hood, An Outlaw.
Robin Hood is an outlaw bold
Under the greenwood tree;
Bird, nor stag, nor morning air
Is more at large than he.
They sent against him twenty men,
Who joined him laughing-eyed;
They sent against him thirty more,
And they remained beside.
All the stoutest of the train,
That grew in Gamelyn wood,
Whether they came with these or not,
Are now with Robin Hood.
And not a soul in Locksley town
Would speak him an ill word;
The friars raged; but no man's tongue,
Nor even feature stirred;
Except among a very few
Who dined in the Abbey halls;
And then with a sigh bold Robin knew
His true friends from his false.
There was Roger the monk, that used to make
All monkery his glee;
And Midge, on whom Robin had never turned
His face but tenderly;
With one or two, they say, besides,
Lord! that in this life's dream
Men should abandon one true thing,
That would abide with them.
We cannot bid our strength remain,
Our cheeks continue round;
We cannot say to an aged back,
Stoop not towards the ground;
We cannot bid our dim eyes see
Things as bright as ever;
Nor tell our friends, though friends from youth,
That they'll forsake us never:
But we can say, I never will,
Friendship, fall off from thee;
And, oh sound truth and old regard,
Nothing shall part us three.
poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sherwood
Sherwood in the twilight, is Robin Hood awake?
Grey and ghostly shadows are gliding through the brake;
Shadows of the dappled deer, dreaming of the morn,
Dreaming of a shadowy man that winds a shadowy horn.
Robin Hood is here again: all his merry thieves
Hear a ghostly bugle-note shivering through the leaves,
Calling as he used to call, faint and far away,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.
Merry, merry England has kissed the lips of June:
All the wings of fairyland were here beneath the moon;
Like a flight of rose-leaves fluttering in a mist
Of opal and ruby and pearl and amethyst.
Merry, merry England is waking as of old,
With eyes of blither hazel and hair of brighter gold:
For Robin Hood is here again beneath the bursting spray
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.
Love is in the greenwood building him a house
Of wild rose and hawthorn and honeysuckle boughs;
Love it in the greenwood: dawn is in the skies;
And Marian is waiting with a glory in her eyes.
Hark! The dazzled laverock climbs the golden steep:
Marian is waiting: is Robin Hood asleep?
Round the fairy grass-rings frolic elf and fay,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.
Oberon, Oberon, rake away the gold,
Rake away the red leaves, roll away the mould,
Rake away the gold leaves, roll away the red,
And wake Will Scarlett from his leafy forest bed.
Friar Tuck and Little John are riding down together
With quarter-staff and drinking-can and grey goose-feather;
The dead are coming back again; the years are rolled away
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.
Softly over Sherwood the south wind blows;
All the heart of England hid in every rose
Hears across the greenwood the sunny whisper leap,
Sherwood in the red dawn, is Robin Hood asleep?
Hark, the voice of England wakes him as of old
And, shattering the silence with a cry of brighter gold,
Bugles in the greenwood echo from the steep,
Sherwood in the red dawn, is Robin Hood asleep?
Where the deer are gliding down the shadowy glen
All across the glades of fern he calls his merry men;
Doublets of the Lincoln green glancing through the May,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day;
Calls them and they answer: from aisles of oak and ash
Rings the Follow! Follow! and the boughs begin to crash;
The ferns begin to flutter and the flowers begin to fly;
And through the crimson dawning the robber band goes by.
Robin! Robin! Robin! All his merry thieves
Answer as the bugle-note shivers through the leaves:
Calling as he used to call, faint and far away,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.
poem by Alfred Noyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Song of Sherwood
Sherwood in the twilight, is Robin Hood awake?
Grey and ghostly shadows are gliding through the brake,
Shadows of the dappled deer, dreaming of the morn,
Dreaming of a shadowy man that winds a shadowy horn.
Robin Hood is here again: all his merry thieves
Hear a ghostly bugle-note shivering through the leaves,
Calling as he used to call, faint and far away,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.
Merry, merry England has kissed the lips of June:
All the wings of fairyland were here beneath the moon,
Like a flight of rose-leaves fluttering in a mist
Of opal and ruby and pearl and amethyst.
Merry, merry England is waking as of old,
With eyes of blither hazel and hair of brighter gold:
For Robin Hood is here again beneath the bursting spray
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.
Love is in the greenwood building him a house
Of wild rose and hawthorn and honeysuckle boughs:
Love is in the greenwood, dawn is in the skies,
And Marian is waiting with a glory in her eyes.
Hark! The dazzled laverock climbs the golden steep!
Marian is waiting: is Robin Hood asleep?
Round the fairy grass-rings frolic elf and fay,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.
Oberon, Oberon, rake away the gold,
Rake away the red leaves, roll away the mould,
Rake away the gold leaves, roll away the red,
And wake Will Scarlett from his leafy forest bed.
Friar Tuck and Little John are riding down together
With quarter-staff and drinking-can and grey goose-feather.
The dead are coming back again, the years are rolled away
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.
Softly over Sherwood the south wind blows.
All the heart of England his in every rose
Hears across the greenwood the sunny whisper leap,
Sherwood in the red dawn, is Robin Hood asleep?
Hark, the voice of England wakes him as of old
And, shattering the silence with a cry of brighter gold
Bugles in the greenwood echo from the steep,
Sherwood in the red dawn, is Robin Hood asleep?
Where the deer are gliding down the shadowy glen
All across the glades of fern he calls his merry men--
Doublets of the Lincoln green glancing through the May
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day--
Calls them and they answer: from aisles of oak and ash
Rings the Follow! Follow! and the boughs begin to crash,
The ferns begin to flutter and the flowers begin to fly,
And through the crimson dawning the robber band goes by.
Robin! Robin! Robin! All his merry thieves
Answer as the bugle-note shivers through the leaves,
Calling as he used to call, faint and far away,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.
poem by Alfred Noyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I grew up in a very nice house in Houston, went to private school all my life and I've never even been to the 'hood. Not that there's anything wrong with the 'hood.
quote by Beyonce Knowles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bed Time
mother is
bed time
as mother
tells a lot
of stories
about
strange creatures
like
elastic man
yellow frog
girl
robin hood
red riding hood
manhood
boy with golden
hair
Rapunzel
gazelle
Cinderel la and
Aladdin
we sleep and
mother goes
back to her
bed with father
and the lights
are turned off
and there are
so many dreams
father, mother
and us
and so many of
these dreams
with the
unicorns
and the
dragons sometimes
and the knights
such that
we cannot
anymore
remember
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Incantation
A white well
In a black cave;
A bright shell
In a dark wave.
A white rose
Black brambles hood;
Smooth bright snows
In a dark wood.
A flung white glove
In a dark fight;
A white dove
On a wild black night.
A white door
In a dark lane;
A bright core
To bitter black pain.
A white hand
Waved from dark walls;
In a burnt black land
Bright waterfalls.
A bright spark
Where black ashes are;
In the smothering dark
One white star.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Shifting Sand
Do you see that post a-stickin in the sand?
Just the point of it a-poking thro' the sand?
Me and Madge put in that fence.
Yes! We should have had more sense!
We was young, you see, and didn't understand.
Twenty years come next November we began;
There was nothing here but scrub when we began --
Sold the farm on 'Dingo Flat,'
And put all we had in that!
Into blasted shifting sand and 'Take-all pan.'
This here paddick--which? Why where you're standing now
(Oh! it was one, tho' you wouldn't think so now!)
Well, we grubbed it, nice and neat,
And we gut it in with wheat;
And we didn't reap enough to feed the cow!
In the early spring the sand began to shift ---
In a 'Norther' have you ever seen it shift?
Well, it all went in a night,
Not a blade was left in sight
When we come to look next morning at the drift!
Round the back there, by them stunted pepper-trees;
Hardly anything will live here but them trees.
Madge is lying there, asleep,
With the sand above her, deep:
Deep and loose enough to sink you to the knees!
Many other things are buried on the land,
Things you can't get back from any kind of land,
Youth and hope, and tears and sweat,
Wasted work and vain regret,
In the sneaking, creeping, greedy, shifting sand!
poem by Charles Henry Souter
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Lamia in Blackburn Wood
[In the form of traditional folk ballad.]
I
In Blackburn Wood a maid betrothed
that rode a garlanded mare
by cutthroat maimed for maidenhood
writhed in crimson there.
Dislimbed beneath a shrieking sun
and left for carrion-kite,
the savaged maid survived their beaks,
and slithered into night.
II
By summer's end, to Blackburn Wood
a sheath of night returned;
beneath its hood and tapered robe
maiden vengeance burned.
'Disrobe and yield or fall in blood,
this blade rejects all pleas:
I leave a maid a looping asp
that will not lift her knees.'
'I'll shed my robe and hood that am
no maid to fear such thing;
to chill your blazing blood I bear
a maiden's righteous sting.'
III
A lethal hiss cut short his grunts,
bestial snarl hardened to stone,
as ramping venom drained him faint
and pale as weathered bone.
Up from a clump of blasted weeds
there rose in mid-day light
from cutthroat's ribs and skull, pecked clean,
a flock of swollen kite.
A field away a sheath of scales,
resembling robe and hood,
curled round a broken garland
redeemed in Blackburn Wood.
*(Lamia in Greek myth is a serpent with the head
and breasts of a woman.)
poem by William F Dougherty
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