Related quotes: at news of her death...

Thoughts of Phena

at news of her death

Not a line of her writing have I
Not a thread of her hair,
No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby
I may picture her there;
And in vain do I urge my unsight
To conceive my lost prize
At her close, whom I knew when her dreams were upbrimming with light
And with laughter her eyes.

What scenes spread around her last days,
Sad, shining, or dim?
Did her gifts and compassions enray and enarch her sweet ways
With an aureate nimb?
Or did life-light decline from her years,
And mischances control
Her full day-star; unease, or regret, or forebodings, or fears
Disennoble her soul?

Thus I do but the phantom retain
Of the maiden of yore
As my relic; yet haply the best of her--fined in my brain
It may be the more
That no line of her writing have I,
Nor a thread of her hair,
No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby
I may picture her there.

March 1890.

poem by Thomas Hardy
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Related quotes

Thought Of Ph---a At News Of Her Death

NOT a line of her writing have I,
Not a thread of her hair,
No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby
I may picture her there;
And in vain do I urge my unsight
To conceive my lost prize
At her close, whom I knew when her dreams were upbrimming with light,
And with laughter her eyes.

poem by Thomas Hardy
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It's Death Again

It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'

The Reign of Death

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Death and I

When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.

A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.

My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.

When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –

Death and I so bound.

D eath Crawl

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Fat Dame in Maine.

You know the fat dame in Maine
Whose husband used to carry a
Gun for the Mob until they banged
Him up for shooting some guy in
The head? Well she rang Eddie the
Other night and said why don’t you
Come over and spend a little time
With me? And Eddie said sorry Honey
But I’m washing my hair then I’m sitting
Down with a JD and going to listen to
Some jazz and maybe get in a take away
And so the fat dame said ok then I’ll
Come over to you and dry your hair
And share the JD and bring a pizza and
Snuggle up close and listen to some jazz
And maybe later we can hit the sack and
Make some hot sex and dig deep into each
Other so Eddie said hang on there Babe
I’ve just now remembered my mother’s
Coming to see my new pad and I’m taking
Her for a bite to eat and maybe take in a
Movie ok the fat dame said then I‘ll stay
Home and drink my booze and watch the
Late night TV and eat some chocs and sit
Sad so well the next day they found her in
Her bathtub throat cut lying in water dead.

poem by Terry Collett
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Disingenuousness

Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.

Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:

Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!

Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.

The March of Death

Death death death death death death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Writing On The Wall

(1)
As sorry as it seems
It can be like it used to be
We live on broken dreams
Weve given up on trying
The face I thought I always knew
The picture that Id paint of you
Your crying eyes are lying
(chorus)
Cant you see the writing on the wall
Will the ghost from the past
Show us how it used to be
Draw the line on the things we said
Let them fade away
Now youll see the writing on the wall
Oh yea, everything that used to be
Is writing on the wall
All the time we fooled ourselves
Had some fun if nothing else
But oh our little world was dying
(1)(chorus)

song performed by by Motley Crue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night Close

Under night close
Death rose to greet me.
I turned; looked back,
Though nothing beckoned -
No one cried or mourned.

Scorned by all
- My fellow race -
I shed the byes to empty space, then
Gazed upon the stony face
Of Death anon, and
So chose our treaty.

Line of Death

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A Fresh Endeavour

So now I've taken leave of life,
I thought you'd like to know, I still
Possess a mind in love, oh wife;
A soulful eye to catch a show of
Silent beauty – ever yours;
An ear to pick the metaphors
Of tonal dance in words you say,
Grasp a thought in verse you pray
Inside your head, bemused of mind,
Softly mournful, intertwined with
Understanding tears.

I'll drift a whisper o'er to you
To tell that I am quietly calm;
Keeping time till your adieu
To flesh, upon the carol of a
Psalm of consummation. Now!
A fresh endeavour – we're forever
One together, resting yonder,
Cross our open plane of blue.

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Punishment

There never really was a place of sanctity
For you, the mortal entity.
You thought you had prosperity,
The while you thrived and were.

Angels don't exist, you see.
You lived without a guarantee
Atop your brutal Earth.
Still, you had a birth.

And whither now, your crying whim -?
Answered by a tearing limb-?
Are you contrite; your valour slim?

And will He care...?

'Tis down to Him.

Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Death, Inevitable Death

Death, inevitable Death.
So now You come to show Your world,
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.
And peering down upon my form
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.

Death, inexorable Death.
‘When? ’ The only question out of Thee.
My dream retorts 'But ne’er for me! ’
But now awake, I bid you so –
My giving tears cry ‘Where to go? ’

Death, adamant Death.
You cast Your spell and guide me 'way,
For life and I have had our day.
And what of me? I prey You, tell!
Be glorious in Heaven or gnarled in Hell?

Death, ineluctable Death.
Oh wiry ghoul, I'm here to follow –
I leave my body grey and shallow.
‘Come! ’ You bid in thund’ring tones,
‘Beg farewell to shattered bones.’

Death
Death death
Death death death
Death death death death
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Death death death death
Death death death
Death death
Death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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At First. To Charlotte Cushman.

My crippled sense fares bow'd along
His uncompanioned way,
And wronged by death pays life with wrong
And I wake by night and dream by day.

And the Morning seems but fatigued Night
That hath wept his visage pale,
And the healthy mark 'twixt dark and light
In sickly sameness out doth fail.

And the woods stare strange, and the wind is dumb,
-- O Wind, pray talk again --
And the Hand of the Frost spreads stark and numb
As Death's on the deadened window-pane.

Still dumb, thou Wind, old voluble friend?
And the middle of the day is cold,
And the heart of eve beats lax i' the end
As a legend's climax poorly told.

Oh vain the up-straining of the hands
In the chamber late at night,
Oh vain the complainings, the hot demands,
The prayers for a sound, the tears for a sight.

No word from over the starry line,
No motion felt in the dark,
And never a day gives ever a sign
Or a dream sets seal with palpable mark.

And O my God, how slight it were,
How nothing, thou All! to thee,
That a kiss or a whisper might fall from her
Down by the way of Time to me:

Or some least grace of the body of love,
-- Mere wafture of floating-by,
Mere sense of unseen smiling above,
Mere hint sincere of a large blue eye,

Mere dim receipt of sad delight
From Nearness warm in the air,
What time with the passing of the night
She also passed, somehow, somewhere.

poem by Sidney Lanier
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In Vain

The stars in the sky
In vain
The tragedy of Hamlet
In vain
The key in the lock
In vain
The sleeping mother
In vain
The lamp in the corner
In vain
The lamp in the corner unlit
In vain
Abraham Lincoln
In vain
The Aztec empire
In vain
The writing hand: in vain
(The shoetrees in the shoes
In vain
The windowshade string upon
the hand bible
In vain—
The glitter of the greenglass
ashtray
In vain
The bear in the woods
In vain
The Life of Buddha
In vain)

poem by Jack Kerouac
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Sixty Seconds

Damian dame, qt (left eye), & boz (t-boz)
(appears on damian dame's self-entitled album)
Yo what up
Hit a q.u.e.s.t.i.o.n.
Oh about the war?
The war?
But i'm sayin' yo
D-damian dame
What is goin' on
Because the squabblin' is just insane
What's goin' on as a brother used to say
Kinda makes you think about back in that day
Peace was the word or haven't you heard
All this hype about war is absurd
What's goin' around comes around
Vietnam relived (yeah)
It's the same old sound
Missiles gliding families dividing
The american dream
Is quickly declining
Depression opression i thought we learned a lesson
From the last time
Nobody wants to stand in the cheese and bread line
Not me see (nah ah)
Recycled generations of love and war
And the question of what!
What we fighting for?
Killin' for oil 'cause we're spoiled with luxury
They gotta have it
So saddam got rushed g
It got crazy and civilians were hit you see (damn)
A thud a scud all for what
It's time to begin the end
Somebody give it up
Sixty seconds turn off the news
'cause every channel
Who shot who
Ain't no glory
'cause in the end it will be his-story
So we might as well stop!

song performed by by TLC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Evening Out

It all kind of fell into place
the dame’s face
the hair colour
the way she swayed

and the accent
of her voice
seemed to jog
your mind awake

yes she’d been quite a dame
and had been on your arm
at the fair
and you’d had a good time

and she’d laughed
and hugged your arm numb
and you kissed
and walked her home

and she said not to make
too much noise
as her old man was upstairs
and he never seemed to trust

guys she went out with
and how many guys
have you been out with?
You asked

looking up at the window
where no light shone
and she replied
Oh just a few

I’m not a darn hooker you know
I’ve just had a few men
here and there
and you wondered

where the here and there was
and how far did she go
with those guys
and she said

look I’ve only had sex
a couple of times
and that was usually over
in the time it takes

to say hullabaloo
and anyway she said
how about you?
You noticed the light go on

up in the bedroom
and whispered
got to go
your old man’s about

and it was a swell evening
and you’re my fourth dame
this month
and I’ve had sex more times

than you can say hullabaloo
and she stood there and stared
and her jaw dropped
and you walked away

beneath bright stars
and full moon
not a moment too late
not a second too soon.

poem by Terry Collett
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Too Late

Well, its too late for walking in the middle,
Too late to try.
Yes, its too late for sitting in the balance,
No more middle line.
Oh, its too late for walking on fences,
Time to choose your side.
Yes, its too late for flirtin with the darkness,
Make up your mind.
Oh, the time has come for making a decision,
And you say youve found the light.
But the talk is cheap when I see the way youre living,
Walking in the night.
Well, its too late for walking in the middle,
Too late to try.
Yes, its too late for sitting in the balance,
No more middle line.
Oh, its too late for thinking you can walk the middle line...
Better get wise.
You may think that you can live by your feelings,
Different every night.
But an emotional religion will crumble at our feet,
If were made to stand and fight.
Well, its too late for walking on fences,
Time to choose you side.
Yes, its too late for flirtin with the darkness,
Make up your mind.
Well, its too late for thinking you can walk the middle line...
Better get wise.
Well, its too late for walking in the middle,
Too late to try.
Yes, its too late for sitting in the balance,
No more middle line.
Oh, its too late for walking on fences,
Time to choose your side.
Yes, its too late for flirtin with the darkness,
Please make up your mind.
Well, its too late for walking in the middle,
Too late to try.
Yes, its too late for sitting in the balance,
No more middle line.
Oh, its too late for walking on fences,
Time to choose your side.
Yes, its too late for flirtin with the darkness,
Please make up your mind.

song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Youve Got Love

(steve seskin/mark d. sanders)
If youve got faith
And you believe in what youre living for
You can stand your ground when the devils at your door
And a little hope can help you when the road is getting rough
But theres nothing quite like life if youve got love
If youve got love you can move a mountain
A little bit further down the line
You can do it all at once or one rock at a time
You can turn an ordinary picture into a priceless work of art
Its what you can do if youve got love in your heart
Now theres nothing like a real good friend
To tell your troubles to
But theres just so much a real good friend can do
cause it takes anothers touch to chase the darkest blues away
If youve got love youve got what it takes
If youve got love you can move a mountain
A little bit further down the line
You can do it all at once or one rock at a time
You can turn an ordinary picture into a priceless work of art
Its what you can do if youve got love in your heart
If youve got love you can move a mountain
A little bit further down the line
You can do it all at once or one rock at a time
You can turn an ordinary picture into a priceless work of art
Its what you can do if youve got love in your heart
Its what you can do if youve got love in your heart
(if youve got love) you can move a mountain
Further down the line
You can do it all at once or one rock at a time
You can turn a picture into a priceless work of art...

song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death, My Friend

Death, my friend - so good to see you!
Stand aloft and view my soul!
I have to say you’re looking frightful -
Bony chum, you affable ghoul.

Death, my friend, so charmed I’m sure!
State your case and tell me straight -
Am I worthy of reward, so
Venture I to Heaven’s Gate?

Death, my friend, a new acquaintance!
You're always welcome in my home -
Though the stare from empty sockets
Indicates to Hell we roam!

Death, my friend - my bosom buddy.
My! your finger points at me!
Be you tired of my frivolity?
Aha, I see - Oblivion, we!

Death death death death death death
Death death death death death death
Death death death death death death
Death death death death death death
Death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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We All Have To Move On

It’s from an obscure background we mostly try to emerge
into that mainstream of life is the direction of our urge.
As we gain a little knowledge and skill in what we do best
we grow in confidence and learn to stand apart from the rest.

All life is such an uphill struggle against many an odd
and even after we make a mark our body claims the sod.
Yet life holds many mysteries in which itself is bound
being the main one all the rest revolve themselves around.

Whenever there’s a problem or one arises we need to surmount
the solution is that answer of which we all have to take account.
If we go about only creating more problems than we can solve
we get bogged down and from where we are it’s hard to evolve.

The struggle of life goes onward though and forward is its march
taking everything with it that we know to build a monumental arch.
And this is usually seen as a signpost if at the past we happen to look
recorded for posterity as a picture of a structure in our history book.

The future becomes the past and so the past can reveal the future
the present is the thread that binds them together as in a suture.
And time and space are the stage set of all three in the drama of existence
wherein everything that happens is for a purpose in spite of any resistance.

To live well and long is not really the true objective of life
neither is it to live in luxury nor to boast of a beautiful wife.
As death and the grave await everyone whether they’re great or small
we should try to go beyond them and the body which heeds their call.

When we experience death in our dreams we don’t really die
but only awaken from the nightmare we’ve had with a sigh.
The same thing happens in real life more or less when our time comes to leave
our soul rises freed from the body and its surroundings so we need not grieve.

poem by George Krokos
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Mark R. Slaughter

Just like the dahlia
Death comes in all its beauty

And so I stroke her petals
Push my feet root-deep
Into the composted soil
As weary clouds unite
Coalesce
Darken through the greys
In preparation

Incontinence prevails
Lachrymose in empathy

They cry for me
Sharing tears
Mortality brings
As twilight closes

I rot
(They fade)

To be the plant
(They'll water)

I, denomination Mark R. Slaughter

Struggle thro' my fantasy
To seal the state of mind

That I of soul
Remain eternal

Back on the windowsill
A daffodil stretches
From a bulbous foot

Flirts like a ballerina

STOPS

Wonders of the world

My cat hears the brassy thoughts
From yellow trumpet
Pricks up his ears
Iridescent eyes
Focussed on the future

I'll wait
For his appraisal

A Trail of Death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Late Cat

Late to train
Late to bus
Late to class
And late to party;
She is everywhere a late cat!

Late to eat
Late to sleep
Late to fate
And late to luck;
She is for everything a late cat!

Late to clock
Late to block
Late to dash
Against the truck
And, lo! Even late to death;
She is always a late cat!

poem by Sasikala Kamandula
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

Thoughts of Phena

Related quotes

Thought Of Ph---a At News Of Her Death

It's Death Again

Death and I

Fat Dame in Maine.

Disingenuousness

Writing On The Wall

Night Close

A Fresh Endeavour

Punishment

Death, Inevitable Death

At First. To Charlotte Cushman.

In Vain

Sixty Seconds

Evening Out

Too Late

If Youve Got Love

Death, My Friend

We All Have To Move On

Mark R. Slaughter

Late Cat

En.Citatepedia^®.ro