En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Weave In, Weave In, My Hardy Life

WEAVE in! weave in, my hardy life!
Weave yet a soldier strong and full, for great campaigns to come;
Weave in red blood! weave sinews in, like ropes! the senses, sight
weave in!
Weave lasting sure! weave day and night the weft, the warp, incessant
weave! tire not!
(We know not what the use, O life! nor know the aim, the end--nor
really aught we know;
But know the work, the need goes on, and shall go on--the death-
envelop'd march of peace as well as war goes on;)
For great campaigns of peace the same, the wiry threads to weave;
We know not why or what, yet weave, forever weave.

poem by Walt Whitman
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Indian Weavers

WEAVERS, weaving at break of day,
Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . .
Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild,
We weave the robes of a new-born child.

Weavers, weaving at fall of night,
Why do you weave a garment so bright? . . .
Like the plumes of a peacock, purple and green,
We weave the marriage-veils of a queen.

Weavers, weaving solemn and still,
What do you weave in the moonlight chill? . . .
White as a feather and white as a cloud,
We weave a dead man's funeral shroud.

poem by Sarojini Naidu
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Some people weave burlap into the fabric of our lives, and some weave gold thread. Both contribute to make the whole picture beautiful and unique.

unknown author
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pan Is Dead

‘Pan is dead. Great Pan is dead.
Ah! bow your heads, ye maidens all,
And weave ye him his coronal.’

'There is no summer in the leaves,
And withered are the sedges;
How shall we weave a coronal,
Or gather floral pledges?'

'That I may not say, Ladies.
Death was ever a churl.
That I may not say, Ladies.
How should he show a reason,
That he has taken our Lord away
Upon such hollow season?'

poem by Ezra Pound
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Weave Your Spell

Last night when you spoke to me
Emotion in your voice
You said that you gave to me
A very simple choice
I could leave you ...
And go wandering on my own
Or believe in you ...
Never leave you all alone
Weave your spell for one more day
You enchanted me to stay
When you met me I was wild
"The Spider and the Fly"
Your affections made me smile
I didn't have to try
But then you tamed me...
never blamed me for my pride
And you aimed to ...
Find the real me deep inside
Weave your spell for one more day
You enchanted me to stay
Now I'm feeling like a change
You say that I don't care
But when I look across the way
It's always greener there
If I leave you ...
I may never have the choice
To come back to ...
All the loving that you gave unceasingly
Weave your spell for one more day
You enchanted me to stay

song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wave Your Spell

Last night when you spoke to me
Emotion in your voice
You said that you gave to me
A very simple choice
I could leave you ...
And go wandering on my own
Or believe in you ...
Never leave you all alone
Weave your spell for one more day
You enchanted me to stay
When you met me I was wild
The spider and the fly
Your affections made me smile
I didnt have to try
But then you tamed me...
Never blamed me for my pride
And you aimed to ...
Find the real me deep inside
Weave your spell for one more day
You enchanted me to stay
Now Im feeling like a change
You say that I dont care
But when I look across the way
Its always greener there
If I leave you ...
I may never have the choice
To come back to ...
All the loving that you gave unceasingly
Weave your spell for one more day
You enchanted me to stay

song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spinner

Oh, what was it he meant
By his question as he went?
'I am making a loom,
'T will be up in April's bloom;
If you think it may be,
Spin for me!'

Oh, what shall I believe?
Does he think himself to weave?
And the yarn that I spin,
Lo, he thinks to weave it in?
And so soon as the Spring
Flowers shall bring?

And he laughed when he'd done;
Oh, he is so full of fun.
Dare I trust all my skein
To so young and wild a swain?-
May God help to bind in
All I spin!

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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The Fisher Child's Lullaby

THE wind is out in its rage to-night,
And your father is far at sea.
The rime on the window is hard and white
But dear, you are near to me.
Heave ho, weave low,
Waves of the briny deep;
Seethe low and breathe low,
But sleep you, my little one, sleep, sleep.
The little boat rocks in the cove no more,
But the flying sea-gulls wail;
I peer through the darkness that wraps the shore,
For sight of a home set sail.
Heave ho, weave low,
Waves of the briny deep;
Seethe low and breathe low,
But sleep you, my little one, sleep, sleep.
Ay, lad of mine, thy father may die
In the gale that rides the sea,
But we'll not believe it, not you and I,
Who mind us of Galilee.
Heave ho, weave low,
Waves of the briny deep;
Seethe low and breathe low,
But sleep you, my little one, sleep, sleep.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Shadowed Life

Winter nights & summer days
A frozen meadow with shallow graves
I sit and grieve on this leather weave
For the great love that once was

We rise and fall like the path of the sun
Six feet up to six feet down
We observe our demise with great surprise
Gone when the sun’s in the west

If we accept death as a better place
And pleasantly live our lives
If in death we move closer to the light
Then why is death a world of shadow

Whether were in a concrete jungle
Or a tree-top city
Life always has an end
And death has no pity

So as I sit and grieve on this leather weave
For all of those who have passed
In a blink I begin to think
That life goes by so fast.

poem by Logan Fulk
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Experiences Spun Life Defining

no reply no reply I wonder why
decades passing slip slip slipping
time decisions have their way of taking
life demands multiple acts each days making

time decisions choices rivers flow in passing
flow takes away familiar scenes ghosts missing
remember youth friendship faces fate time altering
weave weave weave lives journeys past went spinning

tapestry woven cotton woolen patterns colours flowing
now time binds final cumulative stitches threads integrating
sum total scores of years divides roads fix flying flying flying
numerous countless various loads experiences spun life defining

poem by Terence George Craddock
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I Rebel

The Norns who weave the tapestry
which rules the fate of mortal men.
Can make mistakes apparently
and some time have to think again.

Though each one blames the other two
and none will admit to their mistake
They have to weave the threads anew.
A lengthy process which can take

almost the life span of a man.
But even Norns are governed by.
The need to heed the master plan,
they have no choice the rules apply

A single thread that’s out of place
can alter mankind’s history.
So they comply with little grace.
What is to be must come to be.

Has man no choice but play the part?
They’ve woven in their tapestry
His path through life right from the start
is fore ordained: no man is free.

The three weird sisters can foresee
future events and bind them fast,
As pictures in their tapestry.
No mortal man can overcast.

The lasting spell the sisters weave.
Although he thinks his will is free.
It matters not what we believe
and therein lies the mystery.

If we believe that this is true.
We are but puppets on a string
and there is little we can do.
To change the slightest little thing.

But I rebel I don’t believe
and make my way as best I can
Accomplish what I can achieve
I am no puppet I’m a man.

22-Sep-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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How To Weave A Dream

Quietly you made, your way into my heart,
Without your knowing, without making a start
It was all my doing, only I knew
How to weave a dream that could never be true!
You never knew, my heart pumped quick
How could you, it was one way traffic
Without giving anything, you took it all
You couldn’t ever, it was my call!
I built the castle, it was on sand
I felt your warmth upon my hand
Only I could do it, you never knew
How to weave a dream that could never be true!

poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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The Cloak, The Boat, And The Shoes

'WHAT do you make so fair and bright?'
'I make the cloak of Sorrow:
O lovely to see in all men's sight
Shall be the cloak of Sorrow,
In all men's sight.'
'What do you build with sails for flight?'
'I build a boat for Sorrow:
O swift on the seas all day and night
Saileth the rover Sorrow,
All day and night.'
What do you weave with wool so white?'
'I weave the shoes of Sorrow:
Soundless shall be the footfall light
In all men's ears of Sorrow,
Sudden and light.'

poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Cloak, The Boat And The Shoes

'What do you make so fair and bright?'

'I make the cloak of Sorrow:
O lovely to see in all men's sight
Shall be the cloak of Sorrow,
In all men's sight.'

'What do you build with sails for flight?'

'I build a boat for Sorrow:
O swift on the seas all day and night
Saileth the rover Sorrow,
All day and night.'

What do you weave with wool so white?'

'I weave the shoes of Sorrow:
Soundless shall be the footfall light
In all men's ears of Sorrow,
Sudden and light.'

poem by William Butler Yeats
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Associated with the Weaving

It becomes difficult to witness,
Someone struggling to untangle...
From a web they did weave strategically.

With an acknowledgement they had spent,
Time in trying to convince,
Their actions and deeds...
Were done with the utmost sincerity.

And to one who has warned...
Through use of observation that connects,
It becomes hard to protect one's integrity.
When standing firm with beliefs.
While others perceive this stance as weak.

It becomes difficult to witness,
Someone struggling to untangle...
From a web they did weave strategically.

Since those now stuck,
In that web that has been woven...
Find themselves equally embarrassed,
Following along as if deaf, dumb and blind...
Because of the 'appearance' of deceit,
A culprit for them has chosen to undermind.

It becomes difficult to witness,
Someone struggling to untangle...
From a web they did weave strategically.

And those following who rejected what had been said...
From past experiences hoped to prevent this,
Find they have become associated with the weaving.
And even though they may be innocent...
A speaking to anyone not paying attention,
Any empathy expressed still will not be heard.

It may be difficult to see as witnessed,
But...
Unbearable to leave as seen,
It is not.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Chagrin D'Amour

IF Love and I were all alone
I might forget to grieve,
And for his pleasure and my own
Might happier garlands weave;
But you sit there, and watch us wear
The mourning wreaths you wove:
And while such mocking eyes you bear
I am not friends with Love.

Withdraw those cruel eyes, and let
Me search the garden through
That I may weave, ere Love be set,
The wreath of Love for you;
Till you, whom Love so well adorns,
Its hidden thorns discover,
And know at last what crown of thorns
It was you gave your lover.

poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Couple...

she is weaving
she has an intricate design inside her mind
and for now
i do not see it
she is secretive and
does not want to be asked
just like me
in my own privacy

i am also weaving
stories of my own
and the plot is complicated
in the manner of
whodunnit.

we are the weavers
inside this room and it is not
so well lighted by the
moon

we seldom discuss
what is missing
we decide not to talk about
what mess we are in

tomorrow morning
we shall weave again
under the heat of the sun
we are never burned
never charred

tonight we shall be in this room
again
we shall weave again
the designs in our minds
our fingers entwine
on matters sanguine.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Arachnid

A little spider took up a corner in my room
I looked him over with awe then with gloom

Little friend, how will you survive without food?
Without a mate or something to sate your hunger

A terrible tangled web he did weave
I gave him a fly from my kitchen window

It was destined to die for the winter
He was not ready for a meal from a sinner like me

We eye balled each other for weeks
He found little critters to eat

With my power mag I found it sad
To see he survived on an ort

The following spring he threw me a curve
He was a she and with egg sack gave birth

What a terrible tangled web she did weave.

poem by John Shea
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Learn to Fly

The entity stands
waitinig, watching
wonders if you know
what to do, how to fly

You learn to live your life
in humans relms of plight
You look upon the stage
and think yes thats the way

But then you begin to see
thats not all there is in life
you need to learn to fly
in the astrial realm up high
It helps you too see
the woven paths we weave

You start to fly, above the clouds
and duck and weave in flight
then with purpose and a smile
you touch those who need your light

Then you teach them how to fly
to follow you on wings
Once flying high you know no bounds
and suddenly your free

The entity just nods and smiles
as you reach out
to all with love
and learn to fly
For all eternity

poem by Kaila George
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To The Men Of England

Men of England, wherefore plough
For the lords who lay ye low?
Wherefore weave with toil and care
The rich robes your tyrants wear?

Wherefore feed and clothe and save,
From the cradle to the grave,
Those ungrateful drones who would
Drain your sweat -- nay, drink your blood?

Wherefore, Bees of England, forge
Many a weapon, chain, and scourge,
That these stingless drones may spoil
The forced produce of your toil?

Have ye leisure, comfort, calm,
Shelter, food, love's gentle balm?
Or what is it ye buy so dear
With your pain and with your fear?

The seed ye sow another reaps;
The wealth ye find another keeps;
The robes ye weave another wears;
The arms ye forge another bears.

Sow seed, -- but let no tyrant reap;
Find wealth, -- let no imposter heap;
Weave robes, -- let not the idle wear;
Forge arms, in your defence to bear.

Shrink to your cellars, holes, and cells;
In halls ye deck another dwells.
Why shake the chains ye wrought? Ye see
The steel ye tempered glance on ye.

With plough and spade and hoe and loom,
Trace your grave, and build your tomb,
And weave your winding-sheet, till fair
England be your sepulchre!

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Song To The Men Of England

I.
Men of England, wherefore plough
For the lords who lay ye low?
Wherefore weave with toil and care
The rich robes your tyrants wear?

II.
Wherefore feed and clothe and save,
From the cradle to the grave,
Those ungrateful drones who would
Drain your sweat -- nay, drink your blood?

III.
Wherefore, Bees of England, forge
Many a weapon, chain, and scourge,
That these stingless drones may spoil
The forced produce of your toil?

IV.
Have ye leisure, comfort, calm,
Shelter, food, love's gentle balm?
Or what is it ye buy so dear
With your pain and with your fear?

V.
The seed ye sow another reaps;
The wealth ye find another keeps;
The robes ye weave another wears;
The arms ye forge another bears.

VI.
Sow seed,-- but let no tyrant reap;
Find wealth,-- let no imposter heap;
Weave robes,-- let not the idle wear;
Forge arms, in your defence to bear.

VII.
Shrink to your cellars, holes, and cells;
In halls ye deck another dwells.
Why shake the chains ye wrought? Ye see
The steel ye tempered glance on ye.

VIII.
With plough and spade and hoe and loom,
Trace your grave, and build your tomb,
And weave your winding-sheet, till fair
England be your sepulchre!

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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