Bitter Mead
The burial ground
In the fairest meadow
Turns barren and fallow
NO one seeds the land
With tears
When the faces
On the tombs
Are stone.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Fallow Souls
These fields are fallow now
where we once sowed our seeds
and the trees bloomed in spring
with the grass below them green.
Should we let the summer's kiss
shrive the husks and the seeds
so our lives are as fallow now
as summer without the rain?
I am back, blossom and fruit
here to watch you grow again
where I was blown on the wind
alone and withering with no soil
The winter turns cold again,
now white with frozen calluses.
Our river still runs swift and strong
always waiting for the next harvest.
poem by Poet Dragon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Orphaned Land - The Storm Still Rages Inside
The rain keeps on falling
Filling the dried land
It drinks the purity of life
(The) land starts to grow
It must be a sign
A message from God's hand
Like tears from the sky
Water begins its flow
Left alone, deserted so long ago
The storm still rages inside
Before the dawn rises I cannot see the light
This land's ground grows weak
Shall we find the path ?
The preacher's words were right
I can't see anyway to (the outer world)
Tears do flow, yet can't conceal
This land is barren, it does not feel
Our self-made slaughter
By our own hands
Here lies the orphaned land...
Suddenly lightning strikes the earth
It marks the sign of my rebirth
Seeds of love from myself evolve
This cannot be living - without (your) safety
The storm still rages inside...
Invisible rays penetrate the ground
This land to die is surely bound
Suffer but doesn't scream
Can this be a hopeless dream ?
song performed by by Orphaned Land
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fallow
Fallow, allow, low, flow, foal, fowl, of, law, fall;
And like a fallow ground in the land of your muse!
But, the forbidden assemblies are always around you.
Chastise,
Remain,
Overrun,
Overturn,
You have eaten the fruits of lies! !
But, i am ready to heal you with my love;
So, wake up and turn your life around to meet up righteousness.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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At Magnolia Cemetery
SLEEP sweetly in your humble graves,
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause;
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.
In seeds of laurel in the earth
The blossom of your fame is blown,
And somewhere, waiting for its birth,
The shaft is in the stone!
Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years
Which keep in trust your storied tombs,
Behold! your sisters bring their tears,
And these memorial blooms.
Small tributes! but your shades will smile
More proudly on these wreaths to-day,
Than when some cannon-moulded pile
Shall overlook this bay.
Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!
There is no holier spot of ground
Than where defeated valor lies,
By mourning beauty crowned.
poem by Henry Timrod
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode:Sung on the. Occasion Of decorating the graves of the Confederate dead
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause;
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.
In seeds of laurels in the earth,
The blossom of your fame is blown,
And, somewhere, waiting for its birth,
The shaft is in the stone.
Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years
Which keep in trust your storied tombs,
Behold! your sisters bring their tears,
And these memorial blooms.
Small tributes, but your shades will smile
As proudly on these wreaths to-day,
As when some cannon-moulded pile
Shall overlook this Bay.
Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!
There is no holier spot of ground,
Than where defeated valor lies,
By mourning beauty crowned!
poem by Henry Timrod
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Graves of the Confederate Dead
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause;
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.
II
In seeds of laurel in the earth
The blossom of your fame is blown,
And somewhere, waiting for its birth,
The shaft is in the stone!
III
Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years
Which keep in trust your storied tombs,
Behold! your sisters bring their tears,
And these memorial blooms.
IV
Small tributes! but your shades will smile
More proudly on these wreaths to-day,
Than when some cannon-moulded pile
Shall overlook this bay.
V
Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!
There is no holier spot of ground
Than where defeated valor lies,
By mourning beauty crowned!
poem by Henry Timrod
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode at Magnolia Cemetery
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause;
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.
In seeds of laurel in the earth
The blossom of your fame is blown,
And somewhere, waiting for its birth,
The shaft is in the stone!
Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years,
Which keep in trust your storied tombs,
Behold! your sisters bring their tears,
And these memorial blooms.
Small tributes! but your shades will smile
More proudly on these wreaths to-day,
Than when some cannon-moulded pile
Shall overlook this bay.
Stoop, angels, thither from the skies!
There is no holier spot of ground
Than where defeated valor lies,
By mourning beauty crowned.
poem by Henry Timrod
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Laughter Turns To Tears
Makeup on your shoulder silence in the air
Tonight those telltale signs are everywhere
As you lay beside her talkin' in your dreams
The game is up and laughter turns to tears
Every time you phone her with a dumb excuse
She starts to think that she's outgrown her use
You'll be home by midnight workin' late it seems
The penny drops and laughter turns to tears
Do you think she's crazy
Don't you think she knows
Do you think she's taken in
Don't you think it shows
When laughter turns to tears
Laughter turns to tears
You can send her roses say she's lookin' great
You can talk of love but it may be too late
You may think she's jokin' as her laughter teems
But with tears
And laughter turns to screams
chorus
Now it won't be easy
Finding words to say
how you really feel inside
You take the game away
When laughter turns to tears
Laughter turns to tears
One day it's gonna shake you up
Take you by surprise
Someday it's gonna wake you up
Tears in your eyes
When laughter turns to tears
Laughter turns to tears x2
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heart Turns To Stone
The days and nights you sit around wondering where can
She be
Hoping that she might appear, out of nowhere
But you fail to see
All the hurt inside, the wounded pride
Ooh what she went through for you
You cheated and lied, as her love slowly died
And her heart just broke in two
When she was with you, all along
Behind you right or wrong
She tried to hold on, hold on
But you went too far, and shes gone
And now its over and her heart turns to stone
No time for pity, when her heart turns to stone
She cries a little as her heart turns to stone
Shes that kind of woman
Shell do fine on her own
What you thought was a game
A game you were winning
Wouldnt go your way
Now youve lost what you had
And your back to the beginning
Its the price you have to pay
When she was with you, all along
Behind you right or wrong
She tried to hold on, hold on
But you went too far, and shes gone
And now its over and her heart turns to stone
No time for pity, when her heart turns to stone
She cries a little as her heart turns to stone
Shes that kind of woman
Shell get by on her own
She hides the pain
But her heart turns to stone
No time for pity
When her heart turns to stone
She cries sometimes
As her heart turns to stone
Shes that kind of woman
Shell get by on her own
Yeah its over
And her heart turns to stone
Dont look for pity now
When her heart turns to stone
Listen to her cry
Listen to her cry
Shes a woman now
Ooh its a sad thing to see
To see a heart turn to stone
The heart of a woman
A heart turned to stone
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Deserted Village
There's a road on the hill, leads down to the plain
Where once was a village before the Black Plague,
And the old stone walls that marked off the fields
Lie hidden by the village called Tiverton Lees.
Where the gorse has flourished since the old crops died
Laid waste, un-nourished through the countryside,
And the old plough furrows ripple down through the vale
Where the farmhands idled, swilling lunchtime ale!
There are marks on the ground, along the main street
Worn smooth by the passages of carts and feet,
And the old foundations of the King's Head Inn
Lie stark, untroubled, where the men filed in.
The land lies fallow by the old cattle byres
While hearthstones, burnt, tell of warm cottage fires,
Of children, spooning at their hot pottages,
And wives, sat darning in their warm cottages.
But the mounds, in relief, lie, row after row
And the hillside's grief sighs, covered in snow,
When the world turned once, and caught at its breath
To visit on the village what they called ‘The Black Death! '
Lost, all lost, are the dreams and the tears,
The love that was made, and the hopes and the fears,
There hasn't been a burial, wedding or a sneeze
For seven hundred years, in Tiverton Lees!
5 August,2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Unplanted Land
Unplanted Land
Things made by man never impressed me, but the fallow land,
where I live, which is going back to nature’s way does impress.
On my walks I see how each plant strive towards the light, one
may say, as man seeks god, but here it is not about being better
or more powerful, it’s just nature. That’s way I see Eifel tower
as a symbol of power, pride and vanity. But in the back of my
mind an unpleasant thought arises: could it be that wars are
a natural cause? Nature’s way of insuring that only the strong
survives? That peace is like fallow land, beautiful but useless?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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A Frost Has Come
A frost has come this night
To visit all the land
A cold death slowly emerges
From the deep darkness
Of a long forgotten dream
The ground beneath the foot
Hardened like a tombs stone
The warm glow of street lights
Catches the shine off the icy path
Unsteady to walk upon
While the open sky above
As vast and beautiful as ever
Leaves the mind feeling small
Oh what words are wanted
To be heard and spoken
To bring company this night
To birth new life once more
In a land cold and dark
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Regrets reaped
The harvests have been less than seeds sown,
Sometimes nil, land turning barren,
And sometimes lost due to the pests
In the end, each reaps bundles of regrets.
13.12.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The fertility
Skin, royalty and wealth might be with
birth.
Grace, civility and art comes with
growth.
Without the latter the former will wilt
Like hybrid seeds that grow on barren land.
26.07.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Statue of Robert Burns
To a town in Southern land
Light of purse I come and lone;
And I pause awhile, and stand
By a pedestal of stone;
And I bend my head and bow
While my heart to Scotland turns,
For I know I’m standing now
‘Neath the form of Robbie Burns.
Round the corners of the lips
Lines of laughter seem to run;
From the merry eye there slips
Just a twinkle as of fun.
Living in the sculptor’s art,
Set in stone, mine eye discerns
All the beauty, and a part
Of the soul, of Robert Burns.
One of Caledonia’s sons,
Coming lonely to the land.
Well might think he’d met a friend
Who would take him by the hand,
And the tears spring to his eyes,
While his heart for friendship yearns;
And from out that heart he cries,
“Heaven bless ye, Bobbie Burns.”
“Unto me, as unto you,
Has a hard world done ill turns;
And the sorrows that you knew
I am learning Bobbie Burns.
But I’ll keep my heart above
Until, after many moons,
I return to friends I love,
And to banks line bonnie Doon’s.”
poem by Henry Lawson
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Seed ground that has been fallow, not ground that has just yielded fruitfully.
A Man Young And Old: VII. The Friends Of His Youth
Laughter not time destroyed my voice
And put that crack in it,
And when the moon's pot-bellied
I get a laughing fit,
For that old Madge comes down the lane,
A stone upon her breast,
And a cloak wrapped about the stone,
And she can get no rest
With singing hush and hush-a-bye;
She that has been wild
And barren as a breaking wave
Thinks that the stone's a child.
And Peter that had great affairs
And was a pushing man
Shrieks, 'I am King of the Peacocks,'
And perches on a stone;
And then I laugh till tears run down
And the heart thumps at my side,
Remembering that her shriek was love
And that he shrieks from pride.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Unveiled And Uncovered
Plow in hope and sow in tears,
For he who sows bountifully will reap bountifully;
This is like law, order, peace and calmness,
But my love is now unveiled and uncovered to you.
To the land of oil,
To the land of tomatoes,
To the land of oranges,
To the land of onions,
To the land of pepper,
To the land of coconuts,
But enslaved under the elements of the world!
And my love is now unveiled and uncovered to you.
Have i become your enemy by telling you the truth? !
Then think twice before you close that door;
For she who sows bountifully will reap bountifully.
To the land of beauty,
To the land of romance,
To the land of peace,
To the land of emotions,
To the land of love,
To the land of passion,
And with no stumbling blocks to my success! !
For the seeds are now well planted to yield a bumper harvest.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Till The Land
till the land, till the land,
plant the seeds, pray for rain.
feed your cows and your pigs,
always stop to give thanks.
close to the earth, the seasons,
to your family, to your heart....
to your neighbors, to your friends, .
do your best, do your part.
till the land, till the land,
plant the seeds, pray for rain.
feed your cows and your chickens,
always stop to give thanks.
from generation to generation,
the traditions handed down.
take care of the land you work,
keep the wheel going 'round.
till the land, till the land,
plant the seeds, pray for rain.
feed your cows and your horses,
always stop to give thanks.
now the times have changed,
you're not needed anymore.
the bank's come to take away
all the things you've stood for.
till the land, till the land,
plant the seeds, pray for rain.
feed your cattle and your family,
always stop to give thanks.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Moral rhymes [Apolog]
The sower let the seeds to fall down to the ground
And some by storm were taken to feed the birds around,
Some on the barren rocks died quickly when they fell
And some arrived in high grass, which all of them would quell,
But those which stayed in furrow repaid him hundredfold.
To sow it is a duty...
This surely I can hold.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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