The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XLII
THE SAME CONTINUED
We vex each other with our presence, I
By my regrets and by my mocking face,
You by your laughter and mad gaiety,
And both by cruel thoughts of happier days.
Is then the world so narrow that we pace
These streets like prisoners still with eyes askance,
As bound together in the fell embrace
Of a dark chain which bars deliverance?
Nay, go your ways. I will not vex you more.
Make your own terms with life, while you are fair.
There is none better learned in woman's lore.
You yet may take revenge on grief and care,
And 'twas your nature ever to be gay,
Why should I scoff? Be merry while you may.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet IV
Behold the deed is done. Here endeth all
That bound my grief to its ancestral ways.
I have passed out, as from a funeral,
From my dead home, and in the great world's gaze
Henceforth I stand, a pilgrim of new days,
On the high road of life. Where I was thrall,
See, I am master, being passionless;
And, having nothing now, am lord of all.
How glorious is the world! Its infinite grace
Surprises me--and not as erst with fear,
But as one meets a woman face to face,
Loved once and unforgotten and still dear
In certain moods and seasons. So to me
The fair world smiles to--day, yet leaves me free.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XLVIII
THE SAME CONTINUED
I think there never was a dearer woman,
A better, kinder, truer than you were,
A gentler spirit more divinely human
Than yours with your sweet melancholy air
Of tender gaiety, which seemed like care,
And in your voice a sob as of distress
At the world's ways, its sin and its despair,
Being yourself all strange to wickedness.
Now you are neither gentle, kind, nor good,
And you have sorrows of your own to grieve,
And in your mirth compassion has no mood;
You wear no more your heart upon your sleeve,
And if your voice still sobs 'tis with a sense
Of sorrow's power, grief's wealth, experience.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Old Town Types No. 25 - Black Peter Myloh
A man was Peter Myloh, strong-browed and black of face,
Australian Aboriginal, son of a dark doomed race.
And even I, an urchin then, read grief in his soft eye
Deep grief, that came with knowledge for a people who must die,
For he was 'educated.' But he came of no meek race
Whining, 'Gibbit tickpen', mister,' with a shamed averted face.
And he was proud, quick with a blow for some fool's sneering slight,
And how I grinned and hugged myself. For, lordy! Could he fight!
Old Connors took him as a boy from some wild Murray tribe
And thought to educate him as a scholar and a scribe,
First at school, and then at college. 'Twas a venture ill begun,
For Connors soon grew tired of it; and left him on the run,
A sort of favoured hanger-on, whom every breed forsook,
To be the butt of shearers there, less than the Chinese cook.
And after he'd half-killed a man, and seemed hell-bound for doom,
'Twas my father gave him sanctu'ry as handyman and groom.
Black Myloh loved my father; but the service of a slave
Was nought beside the hero-worship I, a stripling, gave
This lithe, dark-skinned Ulysses with the low, soft school-bred voice
And proudly then I would have changed my colour, had I choice.
For we were mates as men were mates on some forgotten day
Ere 'progress' came with all its care, and life was mostly play.
He taught me then the wise bush-lore learned centuries ago
By a simple, carefree people versed in arts no 'white' may know.
I learned how souls 'go walkabout', of dreams that are no dreams;
We ranged the plains, the scrub-clad hills, we fished the gum-lined streams,
And much I gained that served me well when from that home I ran,
And chose to act the prodigal, and learned to be a man…
And then, the white-scourge took him. Well do I mind my grief -
Fierce, childish grief, the questionings, the shaking of belief…
But that was very long ago; yet, even now, much truth
I winnow from Black Myloh's lore, the real friend of my youth.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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A Laugh -- And A Moan
The brook that down the valley
So musically drips,
Flowed never half so brightly
As the light laugh from her lips.
Her face was like the lily,
Her heart was like the rose,
Her eyes were like a heaven
Where the sunlight always glows.
She trod the earth so lightly
Her feet touched not a thorn;
Her words wore all the brightness
Of a young life's happy morn.
Along her laughter rippled
The melody of joy;
She drank from every chalice,
And tasted no alloy.
Her life was all a laughter,
Her days were all a smile,
Her heart was pure and happy,
She knew not gloom nor guile.
She rested on the bosom
Of her mother, like a flower
That blooms far in a valley
Where no storm-clouds ever lower.
And -- 'Merry, merry, merry!'
Rang the bells of every hour,
And -- 'Happy, happy, happy!'
In her valley laughed the flower.
There was not a sign of shadow,
There was not a tear nor thorn,
And the sweet voice of her laughter
Filled with melody the morn.
* * * * *
Years passed -- 'twas long, long after,
And I saw a face at prayer;
There was not a sign of laughter,
There was every sign of care.
For the sunshine all had faded
From the valley and the flower,
And the once fair face was shaded
In life's lonely evening hour.
And the lips that smiled with laughter
In the valley of the morn,
In the valley of the evening
They were pale and sorrow-worn.
And I read the old, old lesson
In her face and in her tears,
While she sighed amid the shadows
Of the sunset of her years.
All the rippling streams of laughter
From our hearts and lips that flow,
Shall be frozen, cold years after,
Into icicles of woe.
poem by Abram Joseph Ryan
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In God’s Ways
We can know The Lord’s Ways, upon a path paved by Grace,
One that takes us to the place, where we accept God by faith,
As He lifts a veil from our face, the Truth of God we embrace,
Truth for all of the human race, revealed to us to God’s praise.
This grace takes all as they are, as fallen sinners near and far,
Right to the Cross of Calvary, where grace opens eyes to see,
Their need to embrace the Cross, as fallen men spiritually lost,
And to accept The Savior’s Love, to be cleansed in His Blood.
This is only where men start, as sinners with a change of heart,
When we believe in Christ Jesus, new direction, He gives to us,
Redirecting each heart and mind, to leave our old ways behind,
As we begin to follow Jesus Christ, in what becomes a new life.
In His Ways we learn to live, through the Spirit, God would give,
Through His Word we are lead, when with God, we move ahead,
Parting from the dark of night, we begin to live in Christ’s Light,
As we surrender to Jesus Christ, His Spirit helps us live our life.
We find God’s Ways we can trust, as our Lord takes care of us,
Sustaining us through all our days, while we live in God’s Ways,
Living our life on the narrow way, He helps us to grow each day,
As God helps us in all our ways, so we lift up to God our praise.
(Copyright ©11/2009)
Address Spoken by Miss Fontenelle on her Benefit Night, December 4th, 1793, at the Theatre, Dumfries
Still anxious to secure your partial favour,
And not less anxious, sure, this night, than ever,
A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter,
'Twould vamp my bill, said I, if nothing better;
So sought a poet, roosted near the skies,
Told him I came to feast my curious eyes;
Said, nothing like his works was ever printed;
And last, my prologue-business slily hinted.
"Ma'am, let me tell you," quoth my man of rhymes,
"I know your bent-these are no laughing times:
Can you-but, Miss, I own I have my fears-
Dissolve in pause, and sentimental tears;
With laden sighs, and solemn-rounded sentence,
Rouse from his sluggish slumbers, fell Repentance;
Paint Vengeance as he takes his horrid stand,
Waving on high the desolating brand,
Calling the storms to bear him o'er a guilty land?"
I could no more-askance the creature eyeing,
"D'ye think," said I, "this face was made for crying?
I'll laugh, that's poz-nay more, the world shall know it;
And so, your servant! gloomy Master Poet!"
Firm as my creed, Sirs, 'tis my fix'd belief,
That Misery's another word for Grief:
I also think-so may I be a bride!
That so much laughter, so much life enjoy'd.
Thou man of crazy care and ceaseless sigh,
Still under bleak Misfortune's blasting eye;
Doom'd to that sorest task of man alive-
To make three guineas do the work of five:
Laugh in Misfortune's face-the beldam witch!
Say, you'll be merry, tho' you can't be rich.
Thou other man of care, the wretch in love,
Who long with jiltish airs and arts hast strove;
Who, as the boughs all temptingly project,
Measur'st in desperate thought-a rope-thy neck-
Or, where the beetling cliff o'erhangs the deep,
Peerest to meditate the healing leap:
Would'st thou be cur'd, thou silly, moping elf?
Laugh at her follies-laugh e'en at thyself:
Learn to despise those frowns now so terrific,
And love a kinder-that's your grand specific.
To sum up all, be merry, I advise;
And as we're merry, may we still be wise.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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God Makes Things Happen
Only God can make things happen, as we travel through this life,
Guiding those saved from sin, through the Spirit of Jesus Christ.
Only God can change the heart, which is firmly set in all its ways,
In order to from present sin depart, into a new life of better days.
Everything that happens, God allows, in the lives of me and you,
And everything that God avows, will surely, in His time come true.
He may change our present path, as we live out this present time,
To save us from His future Wrath, which will come by His Design.
One Truth that we all cherish, which comes from God’s Salvation,
Is God desires none to perish, via His Message of Reconciliation.
Allowing men to scoff or embrace, His Truth decreed for Eternity,
God’s Truth of Mercy and of Grace, done at the Cross of Calvary.
God allows all men the choice, in regards to the Truth of His Son,
To scoff at Truth or to rejoice, in the Savior He sent for everyone.
We’re told this would be the case, within the Eternal Word of God,
As believers long to see His face, scoffers shall just see His Rod.
His Rod of Judgment as it happens, shall be just as God avowed,
Upon a world plagued by sins, that a darkened world has allowed.
Though God makes things happen, we still have a choice to make,
To allow God’s Son to live within, or God’s Truth, eternally forsake.
(Copyright ©05/2008)
Merry Go Round
(b.andersson/b.ulvaeus)
First release 1972
I have tried in vain never had success
So it seems my life is nothing but a mess
I have lost my only friend
Now it seems I have to start again
Merry go round
Where am I bound
With my love and feelings
Merry go round
Who wants to kiss me
And hug me and miss me
Yes, who wants to do it
I wish that I knew it
Merry go round
Wish I had found
Somebody to care for
Where am I bound
Life is so lonely
If life is just only
To love when my loving
Goes round and round
Looking for someone
Who would want to stay
I might find her
With a bit of luck one day
But who knows
So until then
I can only try and try again
Merry go round
Where am I bound
With my love and feelings
Merry go round
Who wants to kiss me
And hug me and miss me
Yes, who wants to do it
I wish that I knew it
Merry go round
Wish I had found
Somebody to care for
Where am I bound
Life is so lonely
If life is just only
To love when my loving
Goes round and round
Merry go round
Where am I bound
With my love and feelings
Merry go round
Who wants to kiss me
And hug me and miss me
Yes, who wants to do it
I wish that I knew it
Merry go round
Wish I had found
Somebody to care for
Where am I bound
Life is so lonely
If life is just only
To love when my loving
Goes round and round
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Solomon To Sheba
SANG Solomon to Sheba,
And kissed her dusky face,
'All day long from mid-day
We have talked in the one place,
All day long from shadowless noon
We have gone round and round
In the narrow theme of love
Like a old horse in a pound.-
To Solomon sang Sheba,
Plated on his knees,
'If you had broached a matter
That might the learned please,
You had before the sun had thrown
Our shadows on the ground
Discovered that my thoughts, not it,
Are but a narrow pound.'
Said Solomon to Sheba,
And kissed her Arab eyes,
'There's not a man or woman
Born under the skies
Dare match in learning with us two,
And all day long we have found
There's not a thing but love can make
The world a narrow pound.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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A Youth's Suicide
He handed his life a poisoned draught,
With a scornful smile and a cold, cold glance,
And the merry bystanders loudly laughed
(For the rollicking world was gay!).
He thought she knew not the juice, perchance;
But her tears fell down to her sobbing lips
While the merry-makers turned to the dance
(The world was mocking fate that day!).
To his life he kissed his finger-tips:
'Drink deep the beaker, and so farewell!'
Then slowly the poisoned draught she sips
(How they laugh at her meek dismay!).
He sprang to her arm, which loosely fell,
Crying: 'No! not yet that dire eclipse!'
Now loud laughed the dancers, and whirled pell-mell
(While the echoes hurried away!).
The mad world clustered, it seemed, around.
'Farewell!' she sighed, sinking; then from afar
Flowed the pealing laughter and wassail's sound
(For the dead the world will not stay!).
poem by Rose Hawthorne Lathrop
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Why was Cupid a Boy
Why was Cupid a Boy
And why a boy was he
He should have been a Girl
For ought that I can see
For he shoots with his bow
And the Girl shoots with her Eye
And they both are merry and glad
And laugh when we do cry
And to make Cupid a Boyt
Was the Cupid Girls mocking plant
For a boy cant interpret the thingt
Till he is become a man
And then hes so piercd with care
And wounded with arrowy smarts
That the whole business of his life
Is to pick out the heads of the darts
Twas the Greeks love of war
Turnd Love into a Boy
And Woman into a Statue of Stone
And away fled every joy
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Life Teach Me This
this poem takes from me about 2 months to finish it, so please if there is any suggestios please tell me about it and i wanna see your comments. thx and injoy it....
Life teach me this
To be sure of your self it isn’t mean that you are conceited
If you cried it isn’t mean that you have weak heart
If you smile it isn’t mean that you haven’t sad and pain inside you
If you mistake once it isn’t mean that you are bad person
Life teach me this
The most painful thing in life is to be ignored by others
The most painful thing in life is to lose a friend you really love, to earning other one didn’t care about you
The most painful thing in life is when your friends so busy from condolence you especially when you need someone close to upraise your morale
The most painful thing in life when you tell about your deep thoughts and they laughing mockery in your face
The most painful thing in life when you figure out that the only person who care about you is only you
Life teach me this
The most beautiful moments in life when you live in people hearts without lying and deceiving
The most beautiful moments in life when you resist the devil and came back to God and knocking his door after a long absence
The most beautiful moments in life when every one around care about you and helping you to heal your wounds
Life teach me this
Life is cruel when it makes you abandon your only love and all your precious dreams, and judging on you by death when you still alive
Life is cruel when it steel the precious smile, the happiness and the greatest heart, then you hate your life and the world going upside down
Life is cruel when it's turn your days to a dark nights, grief and always crying specially when you used to be amorous to the sun
Life is cruel when misery and pain take a deep place in your life and you know that your happiness moments is so rarely
Life is cruel especially when you start crying and no one hear you, when you start shouting and no one answering you only your echo
Life is cruel when it snatching your soul, emotions and your feelings and replace it by forgetful and separating you from you best friends
Life is cruel when loneliness became your route mate and oppression, wormwood became your best friends
'Life is so cruel when you read these words and you know it's expressing about what inside your heart'
'Life is so cruel when you read these phrases and you know it's just a flash of your life'
SO LIFE TEACH ME THIS
poem by Damn Angel
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Iron Bars Of Mine
I stand behind these old iron bars,
To see the things, that I can see
I see a world that is changing everyday,
A world, that will not wait for me.
Behind these iron bars where I must lay,
Behind these bars where I must stay.
In this world where I am alone
Its a world that I helped build,
I make not the laws for how I live,
Time for me, she is held still.
As tomorrow is the same as it is today,
And today is the same, as yesterday.
Behind these bars, its where I am
It is the place where I sit and lie,
My destiny for me has already been chose,
For this is the place where I will die.
When the youth of mine turns into old,
When the dewdrops of dreams turn into snow.
The world that I made out of iron and stone
Where freedom and life is locked away
Where life is a waste, and living a haste,
It is where myself alone will forever stay.
Days and years for me, I have no care.
My only solitude, is sleep and prayer.
My day for me; she will someday come
When from my bars I am allowed to leave,
I will welcome that day with open arms and hope,
As those iron bars, will close behind me..
And for that day I will constantly pray,
As I leave those bars, for the bars of my a grave.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet VIII
I will sit down awhile in dalliance
With my dead life, and dream that it is young.
My earliest memories have their home in France,
The chestnut woods of Bearn and streams among,
Where first I learned to stammer the French tongue.
Fair ancient France. No railroad insolence
Had mixed her peoples then, and still men clung
Each to his ways, and viewed the world askance.
We, too, as exiles from our northern shore,
Surveyed things sparsely; and my own child's scorn
Remained, how long, a rebel to all lore
Save its lost English, nor was quite o'erborne
Till, as I swore I'd speak no French frog's word,
I swore in French, and so laid down my sword.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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My School Days
Now-a-days where is that cheer,
unless i call up friends to have a beer,
Just like mist gone we are apart in many ways,
But where are my School days.
Now-a-days where is that enthusiasm,
for i bump into people with only sarcasm,
we sail world over on a ship,
unsuccessful even to strike a good friendship,
We have indeed drifted in many ways,
But where are my School days.
Now-a-days where is that laughter,
I hear just laughs to flatter,
true friends were those who where just there,
to say 'Hey we really care'
Scattered are we in many ways,
But where are my School days.
We are born with faces,
and now with a 'book',
we are now connected in many ways,
Where i come to cherish my School days.
poem by Deepak Calyampoondi
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Sonnet- Laughter
If we can laugh, our heart-aches disappear!
Our minds become freed off tensions and stress;
If we make others laugh, they lose their fear,
And become dear, starting to us caress.
Laughter is good for both the young and old;
Laughter can turn a foe into a friend;
Laughter can help forget our woes, be bold;
Laughter can bring to grief, an early end.
Laughter is life’s most precious medicine;
Laughter is soothing balm for all our ills;
Laughter is euphoric much more than wine,
Causing no harm to one or increase bills.
Then laugh and be merry whenever you can,
For, that’s the way to live life better, man.
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: Laughter
If we can laugh, our heart-aches disappear!
Our minds become freed off tensions and stress;
If we make others laugh, they lose their fear,
And become dear, starting to us caress.
Laughter is good for both the young and old;
Laughter can turn a foe into a friend;
Laughter can help forget our woes, be bold;
Laughter can bring to grief, an early end.
Laughter is life’s most precious medicine;
Laughter is soothing balm for all our ills;
Laughter is euphoric much more than wine,
Causing no harm to one/ increasing bills.
Then laugh and be merry, whenever you can,
For, that’s the way to live life better, man.
poem by John Celes
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The Bloke Who Is Wearing Dark Glasses
The bloke who is wearing dark glasses his eyes from me hidden away
Yet the sun is not even shining it is quite an overcast day
In my direction he keeps staring and that sort of does bother me
Which to say the least feels quite perturbing since his hidden eyes I cannot see
To me he is a complete stranger one that I have not seen before
In my direction he keeps staring as he stands by the Super-store door
If I could see his eyes I'd feel happier I look on a face without eyes
On an overcast day his dark glasses the windows to his soul disguise
I feel uncomfortable in the presence of people wearing dark glasses why this should be I do wonder why
But their right for to wear the dark eyes shades one of them could never deny
But our eyes can tell us more about us than words of us ever can say
They can make you look kind and compassionate or cold hearted in a cold way
An unsmiling face wearing dark glasses from across the street stare at me
I do feel as one in discomfort when a face with hidden eyes I do see.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Prayer for friend
As the cruel hands approached,
pushed hard to take life and touched,
No more could do the would be wife,
the life hung in balance to the edge of knife,
I would not be accessible for some,
some more days or weeks to come,
Pray for my beloved who is under care, ,
yet he to enter but don’t know when and where?
What more I ask form HIM?
Spare him for rest of my life,
I ask not but make simple pray
life is to be lived by any other way,
Moved her words so deep in mind,
Blood ran high but could not find.
What else more can be done,
prayer to God and prayers alone,
Add my days and years
Prayed earnestly in his ears,
I have lived the best,
he is still under test,
Miracle happen as prayer do play,
after all, we have to perish in clay,
but not before the destined time,
Pardon the sin and committed crime,
’More good news’ as I learnt in few days,
recovering fast in many ways,
happy days back and life will be fast,
Prayer worked first and not at the last,
Smiling days are back again,
Heat waves gone after heavy rain,
dark clouds disappear and sky look plain,
Happiness and gloom are part of the chain
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Cynical Days
Another years gone by,
The worlds grown older,
Sometimes I heave a sigh,
People grow colder.
Every day I do my best to show,
I can make it in this world I know,
But all the bad thoughts that people bring,
My faith in human natures
Getting pretty thin.
Help me get through these cynical days.
Help me get through my cynical ways.
You say its just a passing phase,
Youve got to help me get through, these cynical days.
Another see through scheme,
People are shallow.
The dark nights closing in,
My dark thoughts follow.
I try and make my world a better place,
(my efforts seem in vain),
But Im competing in a human race,
(falling deeper down the drain),
That value things that just dont count,
Makes me wonder what its all about.
Help me get through these cynical days.
Help me get through my cynical ways.
You say its just a passing phase,
Youve got to help me get through these cynical days.
Yeah, you say its just a passing phase,
Youve got to help me get through these cynical days.
Yeah, you say its just a passing phase,
Youve got to help me get through these cynical days.
Yeah, you say its just a passing phase,
Youve got to help me get through these cynical days.
Cynical days.
Cynical days.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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