Jean Chouan
The Whites fled, and the Blues fired down the glade.
A hill the plain commanded and surveyed,
And round this hill, of trees and verdure bare,
Wild forests closed th' horizon everywhere.
Safe hold and rampart were behind the mount:
There the Whites halt, and their small numbers count.
Jean Chouan rose, his long hair floating free:
'None can be dead, since here our chief we see,'
They cried. Jean Chouan listened to the shot:
'Are any missing? No! Then tarry not,
But fly!' Around him women, children stood,
In terror. 'Sons, re-entering quick the wood,
Disperse yourselves!' As swallows scattering fly
On rapid wings when storms invade the sky,
They fled to thickets drowned in mist and shade,
And ran,—e'en brave men run when they're afraid.
Dread the disorder, when in trembling flight
Old men and infants at the breast unite,
Fearing or to be killed, or captive ta'en.
Jean Chouan, last, did with slow steps remain,
And often turned him back, and made a prayer.
Sudden, a cry within the glade you hear!
A woman 'mid a storm of bullets stood.
Already the whole band was in the wood;
Jean Chouan only stays. He turns, and sees
A woman burdened. Pale and weak, she flies;
Her naked feet, torn by the brambles, bleed;
She's all alone, and cries, 'To help me, speed!'
Jean Chouan mutters, ''T is Jeanne Madeleine.'
In line of shot, in middle of the plain,
On her the bullets with fierce fury pour.
Ah! God himself must bend the victim o'er,
And take her hand, and shelter 'neath his wing.
Death does such numerous darts around her fling,
She must be lost. 'There, help!' she loudly cries;
But fugitives are deaf, and fear denies.
The balls upon the helpless peasant ran.
Then on the hill which dominates the plain,
Jean Chouan bounded, manly, calm, and proud,
Dauntless. 'I am Jean Chouan!' called he loud.
The Blues cried, ''T is the chief!' and that brave form,
Engrossing all the thunder and storm,
Made Death his target change. 'Now take to flight!
He shouts; 'save yourself, sister!' Mad with fright.
Jeanne sped into the wood, her life to save.
Like pine on snow, or mast upon the wave,
Jean Chouan, whom death seemed to fascinate,
Drew up. The Blues see only him. 'I wait
What time your safety needs. Go, daughter, go!
Joy 'mong your kindred you again shall know,
Again sweet blossoms in your bodice place.'
And he alone it was who then did face
The storm of shot which fell on his great height,
Which seemed as if e'en then would win the fight.
The balls fell thick as hail. With scornful eye
He smiled and raised his sword, when suddenly,
As a bear struck in cavern deep and wide,
He felt a ball pierce thro' and thro' his side.
He stood, and said, ''T is well. Hail, Mary, maid!'
Then staggering towards the wood, he turned his head:
'Friends! friends! has Jeanne your shelter reached?' he cried.
'She's safe!' the voices from the wood replied.
Jean Chouan murmured, 'Good!' and dead he fell.
Peasant, O peasants! True, ye chose not well,
But still your memory has not lessened France.
Great were ye in your fierce, dark ignorance,—
Ye, whom your kings, wolves, priests, and savage wood
Made bandits of, were valiant knights and good.
Through all your frightful yoke and errors foul
You had mysterious flashes of the soul;
Bright rays at times from out your blindness flew.
Hail! I, the banished, am not hard on you:
Exile!—I know the cottage roof to spare.
We are proscribed, and you but phantoms are!
Brothers, we all have battled, but we sought
The future; you, benighted lions! fought
To keep the past. We strove to climb the height;
You strove no less to sink in gulfs of night.
All warred, and martyrs were, by different course,
Without ambition and without remorse,—
We to shut hell, you to keep wide the tomb.
Yet on your brows from high does radiance come;
Fraternal love and pity can unite
The sons of day with children of the night.
And Hero of the Darkness! in this lay
For you I mourn,—I, Soldier of the Day.
poem by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Catch Me If You Can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, ohh my...
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, my, my, my...
Sweet magicians daughter, weaving spells my way
You know I want to be with you, but magic words are all you say
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, my, my...
Merlins magic daughter, I know thats what you are
Im playing magic games with you, its easier to guide a star
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Do ya, do ya really wanna try, my...woo
Magic lady waiting, your palace walls are tall
I can wait forever, but Im climbing up the palace wall
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
Jean, jean, jeanie, catch me if you can
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song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Liza Jane
Traditional
Where is my tambourine wait a minute I'll get your tambourine
Got my tambourine get your thing baby
What's wrong with you what is it you want
Can't forget my tambourine boy want a minute
This is a folk tune nad it's called Little Liza Jane
We get some rhythm started here and see what happens
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee Little Liza Jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Hambone Hammer where you've been
Down by the river making gin
I know a man that's three feet tall
Drink his liquor and has a ball
Saw him just the other day
He had a horse and a ball of hay
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
He took me to his great big town
Lots of people standing around
They were listening to a great big band
the bestest music in the land
I tell you once and tell you twice
Enjoy yourself and live your life
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Liza Jean
Traditional
Where is my tambourine wait a minute Ill get your tambourine
Got my tambourine get your thing baby
Whats wrong with you what is it you want
Cant forget my tambourine boy want a minute
This is a folk tune nad its called little liza jane
We get some rhythm started here and see what happens
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee little liza jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Hambone hammer where youve been
Down by the river making gin
I know a man thats three feet tall
Drink his liquor and has a ball
Saw him just the other day
He had a horse and a ball of hay
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
He took me to his great big town
Lots of people standing around
They were listening to a great big band
The bestest music in the land
I tell you once and tell you twice
Enjoy yourself and live your life
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dance Little Jean
Played a wedding for the money and I wish I could have told the bride and groom
Just what I think of marriage, whats in store after the honeymoon.
I was rumbling through the verses about how men and women ought to live apart,
How a promise never made could not be broken and would never break a heart.
Suddenly from out of nowhere this little girl came spinning across the floor
Her crinolines were billowing beneath the skirt of calico she wore.
As her joy fell on the honored guests each one of them was drawn into her dream
And they laughed and stamped and clapped their hands and hollered at her, dance little jean!
They said:
Dance little jean, this day is for you,
Two people that you love stood up to say i do.
Dance little jean, the prayer that you had was answered today-
Your mommas marrying your dad.
Well this cynics heart just melted as I figured what this get together meant
And how it ended years of tears and sad confusions that the little girl had spent.
They told the band to pack it up about the time the couple cut the cake
But we stayed and we played all night long for love and laughs and little jeanies sake
We played:
Dance little jean, this day is for you,
Two people that you love stood up to say i do.
Dance little jean, the prayer that you had was answered today-
Your mommas marrying your dad.
We sang:
Dance little jean, this day is for you,
Two people that you love stood up to say i do.
Dance little jean, the prayer that you had was answered today-
Your mommas marrying your dad.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad
Jean did her best
Denny worked hard
And so together made him a star
And he loved her
Money changed hands
Denny must start
Tallying up things close to his heart
And he loved her so
But we don't always know what to say
When they ask you, what do you say?
No one can tell what's in a heart
People just drift apart
Jean lost her head
Denny got mad
"how, jean," he said, "can things be so bad
Right before my eyes"
Jean told a lie, denny deceived
Jean packed her bags to leave
"jean, if you must go
Before you do
Tell me you know i did it for you
And i loved you so.
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother Jean’s Message
It’s an hour before midnight,
and I hear a yelling sound,
It’s street girl shouting out loud.
“Open up I have some news!
You must hear me you have
no time to lose! ”
Opening the door,
I see urgency in her eyes.
telling me she had
a dream that took her by surprise.
Jean my adopted mother spoke to her
last night & put her into a terrible fright.
At first street girl was leery,
because she was wearing
Jean’s small golden earrings.
In the dream Jean said “That was o.k.
don’t worry I’m here to say,
tell my daughter to move far away.
It is going to get worse and I she won’t be safe,
Make no mistake, tell her soon, Ok? '
Now, I really believed street girl,
for she never knew,
Jean was my adopted mother
and I was her daughter so true.
This confirmed the unseen
That my precious mother Jean,
was watching over me.
Written Feb.2,2011 by Christina Sunrise
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bottom Drawer
In the best chamber of the house,
Shut up in dim, uncertain light,
There stood an antique chest of drawers,
Of foreign wood, with brasses bright.
One day a woman, frail and gray,
Stepped totteringly across the floor--
'Let in,' said she, 'the light of day,
Then, Jean, unlock the bottom drawer.
The girl, in all youth's loveliness,
Knelt down with eager, curious face;
Perchance she dreamt of Indian silks,
Of jewels, and of rare old lace.
But when the summer sunshine fell
Upon the treasures hoarded there,
The tears rushed to her tender eyes,
Her heart was solemn as a prayer.
'Dear Grandmamma,' she softly sighed,
Lifted a withered rose and palm;
But on the elder face was naught
But sweet content and peaceful calm.
Leaning upon her staff, she gazed
Upon a baby's half-worn shoe;
A little frock of finest lawn;
A hat with tiny bows of blue;
A ball made fifty years ago;
A little glove; a tasselled cap;
A half-done 'long division' sum;
Some school-books fastened with a strap.
She touched them all, with trembling lips--
'How much,' she said, 'the heart can bear!
Ah, Jean! I thought that I should die
The day that first I laid them there.
'But now it seems so good to know
That through these weary, troubled years
Their hearts have been untouched by grief,
Their eyes have been unstained by tears.
Dear Jean, we see with clearer sight
When earthly life is almost o'er;
Those children wait me in the skies,
For whom I locked the sacred drawer.'
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dance Little Jean
I played a wedding for the money,
And I wished that I could tell the bride and groom
Just what I thought of marriage
And whats in store after their honeymoon.
And I was grumblin to the dancers
bout how men and women ought to live apart
And how a promise never made can not be broken
And can never break your heart
When suddenly from out of nowhere,
A little girl came dancing cross the floor,
And all her crinolines were billowing
Beneath the skirt of calico that she wore.
Oh what a joy fell on the honored guests
As each of them was drawn inside her dream,
And they laughed and clapped and stomped their feet
And hollered at her dance little jean
Dance, little jean, this day is for you,
Two people you love, stood up and said I do
Dance little jean, the prayer that you had
Was answered today
Your mamas marrying your dad
Well, my cynical heart just melted
cause I knew what this get together meant
How it ended year of tears and sad confusion
That the little girl had spent.
Well they told the band to pack it up
About the time the couple cut the cake,
But we played as long as they stayed
For love and laughs and little jeanies sake.
Dance, little jean, this day is for you,
Two people you love, stood up and said I do
Dance little jean, the prayer that you had
Was answered today
Your mamas marrying your dad
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Jean
Blue jean-i just met me a girl named blue jean
Blue jean-she got a camouflaged face and no money
Remember they always let you down when you need em
Oh, blue jean-is heaven any sweeter than blue jean
She got a police bike
She got a turned up nose
Sometimes I feel like
(oh, the whole human race)
Jazzin for blue jean
(oh, and when my blue jeans blue)
Blue jean can send me
(oh, somebody send me)
Somebody send me
(oh, somebody send me)
One day Im gonna write a poem in a letter
One day Im gonna get that faculty together
Remember like everybody has to wait in line
Blue jean-look out world you know Ive got mine
She got latin roots
She got everything
Sometimes I feel like
(oh, the whole human race)
Jazzin for blue jean
(oh, and when my blue jeans blue)
Blue jean can tempt me
(oh, somebody send me)
Somebody sent me
(oh, somebody send me)
Sometimes I feel like
(oh, the whole human race)
Jazzin for blue jean
(oh, and when my blue jeans blue)
Blue jean can tempt me
(oh, somebody send me)
Somebody sent me
(oh, somebody send me)
Somebody somebody
(oh, somebody send me)
Oh, somebody send me
(oh, somebody send me)
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother Jean’s Message
It’s an hour before midnight,
and I hear a yelling sound,
It’s street girl shouting out loud.
“Open up I have some news!
You must hear me you have
no time to lose! ”
Opening the door,
I see urgency in her eyes.
telling me she had
a dream that took her by surprise.
Jean my adopted mother spoke to her
last night & put her into a terrible fright.
At first street girl was leery,
because she was wearing
Jean’s small golden earrings.
In the dream Jean said “That was o.k.
don’t worry I’m here to say,
tell my daughter to move far away.
It is going to get worse and I she won’t be safe,
Make no mistake, tell her soon, Ok? '
Now, I really believed street girl,
for she never knew,
Jean was my adopted mother
and I was her daughter so true.
This confirmed the unseen
That my precious mother Jean,
was watching over me.
Written Feb.2,2011 by Christina Sunrise
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jean Geanie
A small Jean Genie snuck off to the city
Strung out on lasers and slash back blazers
Ate all your razors while pulling the waiters
Talking bout Monroe and walking on Snow White
New York's a go-go and everything tastes nice
Poor little Greenie, woh ho
Get back home
The Jean Genie lives on his back
The Jean Genie loves chimney stacks
He's outrageous, he screams and he bawls
Jean Genie let yourself go!
Sits like a man but he smiles like a reptile
She love him, she love him but just for a short while
She'll scratch in the sand, won't let go his hand
He says he's a beautician and sells you nutrition
And keeps all your dead hair for making up underwear
Poor little Greenie, woh ho
The Jean Genie lives on his back
The Jean Genie loves chimney stacks
He's outrageous, he screams and he bawls
Jean Genie let yourself go oh
He's so simple minded he can't drive his module
He bites on the neon and sleeps in the capsule
Loves to be loved, loves to be loved
Woh ho
Woh ho
Aoo Jean Genie lives on his back
The Jean Genie loves chimney stacks
And he's outrageous, he screams and he bawls
The Jean Genie let yourself go! go
Go
Jean Genie lives on his back
Jean Genie loves chimney stacks
And he's outrageous, he screams and he bawls
Jean Genie let yourself go woh go
Go go
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Norma-Jean
Oh my gosh its August again!
And for all that are and were?
I think of one,
Orphan Angel,
Norma-Jean,
An Icon of one,
That became what,
The 1950's wanted,
Then died because,
Of,
Pressure and pain,
Of,
Fame and fortunes,
Now here it is August again,
The first week and the beginning,
The first week and the ending,
For,
Norma-Jean Mortensen,
Norma-Jean Baker,
Norma-Jean Dorherty,
Norma-Jean Di-Maggio,
Norma-Jean Miller,
Marilyn Monroe,
A week of celebrating her birth,
A week of remember her death,
A week of what and who she was,
A child born,
And orphaned off,
And what ended up,
A pawn in the idles game,
Of fame and fortune,
With scandel and ruination,
Her Birthday,
And Death Anniversary,
Each in the beginning of August,
Oh my gosh its August again!
And for all that are and were?
I think of one,
Orphan Angel,
Norma-Jean,
Now an Icon embossed,
When in the books,
Of one left to be,
And raised here and there,
Orphan Angel,
Norma-Jean,
Went and became,
What all just made out of her,
And only her few close friends,
That told it right,
Of who was,
Norma-Jean,
And still she is famed,
Yet,
Not until she is long, long gone,
Did we really find out about,
Ophan Angel,
Norma-Jean,
From those that remained so quiet,
Till,
They too passed on as well,
Cookies in the sky,
With warm milk of milky way stars,
And warm company,
Of high above,
With,
Cool diners images of where they meet,
To discuss their fame,
And troubled fortunes,
And the marks on life,
They left behind,
With,
Trials and blazes,
As each and everyone of them,
That too went out,
Just,
Like Norma-Jean,
Will too enjoy,
Just as in life,
Warm Cookies and warm milk,
And the company,
Of.
Norma-Jean.
R.I.P.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode to Jean Matsushige
Another Angel
dropped by today
Spread his wings
took Mom-Mom Jean away
She's in the skies
where all good people go
Floating with the clouds
watching you grow
She brought such happiness
to those who came her way
Saw stills of her life
posted on Facebook today
Jean had a smile
that put you at ease
She was great with the kids
eager to please
She watched her brood grow
throughout the years
Laughed and cried
shared her tears
Now Jean's gone
with the Angel who came
She'll leave a hole in our hearts
life won't be the same.
poem by Sr. Lawerence Mize
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Jean Desprez
Oh ye whose hearts are resonant, and ring to War's romance,
Hear ye the story of a boy, a peasant boy of France;
A lad uncouth and warped with toil, yet who, when trial came,
Could feel within his soul upleap and soar the sacred flame;
Could stand upright, and scorn and smite, as only heroes may:
Oh, harken! Let me try to tell the tale of Jean Desprez.
With fire and sword the Teuton horde was ravaging the land,
And there was darkness and despair, grim death on every hand;
Red fields of slaughter sloping down to ruin's black abyss;
The wolves of war ran evil-fanged, and little did they miss.
And on they came with fear and flame, to burn and loot and slay,
Until they reached the red-roofed croft, the home of Jean Desprez.
"Rout out the village, one and all!" the Uhlan Captain said.
"Behold! Some hand has fired a shot. My trumpeter is dead.
Now shall they Prussian vengeance know; now shall they rue the day,
For by this sacred German slain, ten of these dogs shall pay."
They drove the cowering peasants forth, women and babes and men,
And from the last, with many a jeer, the Captain chose he ten;
Ten simple peasants, bowed with toil; they stood, they knew not why,
Against the grey wall of the church, hearing their children cry;
Hearing their wives and mothers wail, with faces dazed they stood.
A moment only. . . . Ready! Fire! They weltered in their blood.
But there was one who gazed unseen, who heard the frenzied cries,
Who saw these men in sabots fall before their children's eyes;
A Zouave wounded in a ditch, and knowing death was nigh,
He laughed with joy: "Ah! here is where I settle ere I die."
He clutched his rifle once again, and long he aimed and well. . . .
A shot! Beside his victims ten the Uhlan Captain fell.
They dragged the wounded Zouave out; their rage was like a flame.
With bayonets they pinned him down, until their Major came.
A blonde, full-blooded man he was, and arrogant of eye;
He stared to see with shattered skull his favourite Captain lie.
"Nay, do not finish him so quick, this foreign swine," he cried;
"Go nail him to the big church door: he shall be crucified."
With bayonets through hands and feet they nailed the Zouave there,
And there was anguish in his eyes, and horror in his stare;
"Water! A single drop!" he moaned; but how they jeered at him,
And mocked him with an empty cup, and saw his sight grow dim;
And as in agony of death with blood his lips were wet,
The Prussian Major gaily laughed, and lit a cigarette.
But mid the white-faced villagers who cowered in horror by,
Was one who saw the woeful sight, who heard the woeful cry:
"Water! One little drop, I beg! For love of Christ who died. . . ."
It was the little Jean Desprez who turned and stole aside;
It was the little bare-foot boy who came with cup abrim
And walked up to the dying man, and gave the drink to him.
A roar of rage! They seize the boy; they tear him fast away.
The Prussian Major swings around; no longer is he gay.
His teeth are wolfishly agleam; his face all dark with spite:
"Go, shoot the brat," he snarls, "that dare defy our Prussian might.
Yet stay! I have another thought. I'll kindly be, and spare;
Quick! give the lad a rifle charged, and set him squarely there,
And bid him shoot, and shoot to kill. Haste! Make him understand
The dying dog he fain would save shall perish by his hand.
And all his kindred they shall see, and all shall curse his name,
Who bought his life at such a cost, the price of death and shame."
They brought the boy, wild-eyed with fear; they made him understand;
They stood him by the dying man, a rifle in his hand.
"Make haste!" said they; "the time is short, and you must kill or die."
The Major puffed his cigarette, amusement in his eye.
And then the dying Zouave heard, and raised his weary head:
"Shoot, son, 'twill be the best for both; shoot swift and straight," he said.
"Fire first and last, and do not flinch; for lost to hope am I;
And I will murmur: Vive La France! and bless you ere I die."
Half-blind with blows the boy stood there; he seemed to swoon and sway;
Then in that moment woke the soul of little Jean Desprez.
He saw the woods go sheening down; the larks were singing clear;
And oh! the scents and sounds of spring, how sweet they were! how dear!
He felt the scent of new-mown hay, a soft breeze fanned his brow;
O God! the paths of peace and toil! How precious were they now!
The summer days and summer ways, how bright with hope and bliss!
The autumn such a dream of gold . . . and all must end in this:
This shining rifle in his hand, that shambles all around;
The Zouave there with dying glare; the blood upon the ground;
The brutal faces round him ringed, the evil eyes aflame;
That Prussian bully standing by, as if he watched a game.
"Make haste and shoot," the Major sneered; "a minute more I give;
A minute more to kill your friend, if you yourself would live."
They only saw a bare-foot boy, with blanched and twitching face;
They did not see within his eyes the glory of his race;
The glory of a million men who for fair France have died,
The splendour of self-sacrifice that will not be denied.
Yet . . . he was but a peasant lad, and oh! but life was sweet. . . .
"Your minute's nearly gone, my lad," he heard a voice repeat.
"Shoot! Shoot!" the dying Zouave moaned; "Shoot! Shoot!" the soldiers said.
Then Jean Desprez reached out and shot . . . the Prussian Major dead!
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The
One moonlit night a ship drove in,
A ghost ship from the west,
Drifting with bare mast and lone tiller,
Like a mermaid drest
In long green weed and barnacles:
She beached and came to rest.
All the watchers of the coast
Flocked to view the sight,
Men and women streaming down
Through the summer night,
Found her standing tall and ragged
Beached in the moonlight.
Then one old woman looked and wept
'The 'Alice Jean'? But no!
The ship that took my Dick from me
Sixty years ago
Drifted back from the utmost west
With the ocean's flow?
'Caught and caged in the weedy pool
Beyond the western brink,
Where crewless vessels lie and rot
in waters black as ink.
Torn out again by a sudden storm
Is it the 'Jean', you think?'
A hundred women stared agape,
The menfolk nudged and laughed,
But none could find a likelier story
For the strange craft.
With fear and death and desolation
Rigged fore and aft.
The blind ship came forgotten home
To all but one of these
Of whom none dared to climb aboard her:
And by and by the breeze
Sprang to a storm and the 'Alice Jean'
Foundered in frothy seas.
poem by Robert Graves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And The Priests Said No Divorce -Amen?
She married him, that evil incarnate.
Frail looking facade of a false man
With so much of unresolved hate,
But one she had tried to understand.
Those abject years were filled with pain
But Jean had to stay for the children
Her mind messed up and emotions drained
From getting beaten up so very often.
One day he hit her head on the table
With gun in his hand and ready to shoot
The blood from her eyes made her unable
To run away as a bullet hit her foot.
That vile and vicious scum of this earth
Kept hitting her head till she fainted
So high on his drugs and soul full of dirt
Violence alive, never was so demented.
Yet Jean survived that horrible ordeal
Her children marred by warped emotions
Against advice she remained there still
No Divorce to resolve that ugly situation.
Tragically fenced she was by Religion
That neither cared for her life with its rules
The priests must have wanted her martyrdom
Divorce was given only to rich fools.
Years saw her frail health deteriorate fast
Head injuries were now malignant cancer
For even a punching bag would not last
Under that condition, maybe dying was better.
So hail the pious priests, they have won again!
Another woman had died through Deception
Children whose lives been maimed and broken -
All because of rules by a selfish religion.
This is a true story of a friend whose name is hidden in 'Jean'
for the protection of her children. Jean became deaf before she suffered from brain tumor and died.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Error And Loss
Upon an eve I sat me down and wept,
Because the world to me seemed nowise good;
Still autumn was it, & the meadows slept,
The misty hills dreamed, and the silent wood
Seemed listening to the sorrow of my mood:
I knew not if the earth with me did grieve,
Or if it mocked my grief that bitter eve.
Then ’twixt my tears a maiden did I see,
Who drew anigh me on the leaf-strewn grass,
Then stood and gazed upon me pitifully
With grief-worn eyes, until my woe did pass
From me to her, and tearless now I was,
And she mid tears was asking me of one
She long had sought unaided and alone.
I knew not of him, and she turned away
Into the dark wood, and my own great pain
Still held me there, till dark had slain the day,
And perished at the grey dawn’s hand again;
Then from the wood a voice cried: “Ah, in vain,
In vain I seek thee, O thou bitter-sweet!
In what lone land are set thy longed-for feet?”
Then I looked up, and lo, a man there came
From midst the trees, and stood regarding me
Until my tears were dried for very shame;
Then he cried out: “O mourner, where is she
Whom I have sought o’er every land and sea?
I love her and she loveth me, and still
We meet no more than green hill meeteth hill.”
With that he passed on sadly, and I knew
That these had met and missed in the dark night,
Blinded by blindness of the world untrue,
That hideth love and maketh wrong of right.
Then midst my pity for their lost delight,
Yet more with barren longing I grew weak,
Yet more I mourned that I had none to seek.
poem by William Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grateful
[Wyclef Jean]
This is as real as it gets y'all
And it don't get no realer than this
This is as real as it gets y'all, huh
[Wyclef Jean]
Maybe my mother, coulda been my father
Perhaps it was my sister, probably my brother
Maybe the church, coulda been the street
Perhaps it was the guitar, or Jerry Wonder beats
Maybe the money when I didn't have a dime
Maybe a way out before committing crimes
Coulda been Lauryn, perhaps it was Pras
Probably the mirror looking dead in my eyes
Coulda been reggae, or the love of hip-hop
Maybe my fans at the show saying don't stop
Probably the struggle of all refugees
Maybe the sign how the diamonds bling-bling, ching-ching
Ring ring, there's a call from my wifey, whoo
Perhaps I gotta make it home but music keep calling me
And maybe it's all I know, whatever it is I'm grateful for being
[Wyclef Jean]
A man with a guitar, a dude from the streets
A cat with a song, a ReFugee MC
Wyclef Jean, a Fugee for life
A preacher's son, first one on the run
I'm grateful that I haven't been shot
Stopped by the cops and they didn't find a glock
W-Y-C-L-E-F, I'm grateful
[Wyclef Jean]
Coulda been a crack fiend with no place to go
Lord, oh mighty God, have mercy on my soul
Coulda been Pablo, king of Yayo
Or a pimp with a limp screaming we don't love them hoes
Oh no, God knows, perhaps I was chosen
A source of inspiration for the next generation
And maybe it's all I know, whatever it is I'm grateful for being
[Wyclef Jean]
A man with a guitar, a dude from the streets
A cat with a song, a ReFugee MC
Wyclef Jean, a Fugee for life
A preacher's son, first one on the run
I'm grateful that I haven't been shot (shot)
Stopped by the cops and they didn't find a glock (glock)
W-Y-C-L-E-F, I'm grateful
[Wyclef Jean]
Everybody sing along now
You can make it like I made it
Don't let anyone tell you different
When doors close another door will open
Many have called but my people are chosen
You can make it if I made it
Don't let anyone tell you different
When doors close another door will open, yeah
Many have called but my people are chosen, yeah
[Wyclef Jean]
A man with a guitar, a dude from the streets
A cat with a song, a ReFugee MC (yeah)
Wyclef Jean, a Fugee for life
A preacher's son, first one on the run
I'm grateful that I haven't been shot (shot)
Stopped by the cops and they didn't find a glock (glock)
W-Y-C-L-E-F, I'm grateful
song performed by by Wyclef Jean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grateful
[Wyclef Jean]
This is as real as it gets y'all
And it don't get no realer than this
This is as real as it gets y'all, huh
[Wyclef Jean]
Maybe my mother, coulda been my father
Perhaps it was my sister, probably my brother
Maybe the church, coulda been the street
Perhaps it was the guitar, or Jerry Wonder beats
Maybe the money when I didn't have a dime
Maybe a way out before committing crimes
Coulda been Lauryn, perhaps it was Pras
Probably the mirror looking dead in my eyes
Coulda been reggae, or the love of hip-hop
Maybe my fans at the show saying don't stop
Probably the struggle of all refugees
Maybe the sign how the diamonds bling-bling, ching-ching
Ring ring, there's a call from my wifey, whoo
Perhaps I gotta make it home but music keep calling me
And maybe it's all I know, whatever it is I'm grateful for being
[Wyclef Jean]
A man with a guitar, a dude from the streets
A cat with a song, a ReFugee MC
Wyclef Jean, a Fugee for life
A preacher's son, first one on the run
I'm grateful that I haven't been shot
Stopped by the cops and they didn't find a glock
W-Y-C-L-E-F, I'm grateful
[Wyclef Jean]
Coulda been a crack fiend with no place to go
Lord, oh mighty God, have mercy on my soul
Coulda been Pablo, king of Yayo
Or a pimp with a limp screaming we don't love them hoes
Oh no, God knows, perhaps I was chosen
A source of inspiration for the next generation
And maybe it's all I know, whatever it is I'm grateful for being
[Wyclef Jean]
A man with a guitar, a dude from the streets
A cat with a song, a ReFugee MC
Wyclef Jean, a Fugee for life
A preacher's son, first one on the run
I'm grateful that I haven't been shot (shot)
Stopped by the cops and they didn't find a glock (glock)
W-Y-C-L-E-F, I'm grateful
[Wyclef Jean]
Everybody sing along now
You can make it like I made it
Don't let anyone tell you different
When doors close another door will open
Many have called but my people are chosen
You can make it if I made it
Don't let anyone tell you different
When doors close another door will open, yeah
Many have called but my people are chosen, yeah
[Wyclef Jean]
A man with a guitar, a dude from the streets
A cat with a song, a ReFugee MC (yeah)
Wyclef Jean, a Fugee for life
A preacher's son, first one on the run
I'm grateful that I haven't been shot (shot)
Stopped by the cops and they didn't find a glock (glock)
W-Y-C-L-E-F, I'm grateful
song performed by by Wyclef Jean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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