The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXIX
SIBYLLINE BOOKS
When first, a boy, at your fair knees I kneeled,
'Twas with a worthy offering. In my hand
My young life's book I held, a volume sealed,
Which none but you, I deemed, might understand.
And you I did entreat to loose the band
And read therein your own soul's destiny.
But, Tarquin--like, you turned from my demand,
Too proudly fair to find your fate in me.
When now I come, alas, what hands have turned
Those virgin pages! Some are torn away,
And some defaced, and some with passion burned,
And some besmeared with life's least holy clay.
Say, shall I offer you these pages wet
With blood and tears? And will your sorrow read
What your joy heeded not?--Unopened yet
One page remains. It still may hold a fate,
A counsel for the day of utter need.
Nay, speak, sad heart, speak quick. The hour is late.
Age threatens us. The Gaul is at the gate.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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My Song
I wrote a song
It's called 'my life'
I tried my best to make it a good one
I'd never written a song
Twas indeed my first
I had an eraser
I couldn't clean my mistakes though
It turned out to be a long song
A hundred and twenty pages worth
A page a year
I made a mess of it
Blue pen made a mark
As depression took a quarter of it
Yellow pen made an entrance
I decided it was better than blue
Red pen tried to hurt me
As all anger was kept inside
Green pen whispered a note
I wished I had my neighbour's song
So many colours on just one song
Twenty-five pages were dark
I knew not which way to go
I tried to turn a page but couldn't
I basked in pages gone
Hence left several pages blank
Twenty-five pages were wet
As tears serenaded my heart, it did the pages
Too much pain in one song
Tried to change the words
The things I thought all made the song
On a scale of good to bad, bad stole the day
I searched and found other songs titled 'my life'
I wrote my song the way they had
My song was like a painting
One in utter disharmony
One drawn by a clueless artist
But an artist whose passion burned his painting
I set my heart on fire on page 35
There had to be more
And more I had
On page 120, my eyes were dim and hands tired
Since pages couldn't be turned
My mind sat, and looked back
What had I done?
I'd been mountain high
I'd been valley low
I'd been good
I'd been bad
I'd been....
I lay my head on my song
Took my last breath
But before I did
I held a girl
Who had a song called 'my life'
She read my song
And shed a tear
And said I had written....a masterpiece.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Life's Lesson Book
Life is a ponderous lesson-book, and Fate
The teacher. When I came to love's fair leaf
My teacher turned the page and bade me wait.
'Learn first,' she said, 'love's grief';
And o'er and o'er through many a long tomorrow
She kept me conning that sad page of sorrow.
Cruel the task; and yet it was not vain.
Now the great book of life I know by heart.
In that one lesson of love's loss and pain
Fate doth the whole impart.
For, by the depths of woe, the mind can measure
The beauteous unscaled summits of love's pleasure.
Now, with the book of life upon her knee,
Fate sits! the unread page of love's delight
By her firm hand is half concealed from me,
And half revealed to sight.
Ah Fate! be kind! so well I learned love's sorrow,
Give me its full delight to learn tomorrow.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Book Of My Life
Let me watch by the fire and remember my days
And it may be a trick of the firelight
But the flickering pages that trouble my sight
Is a book I'm afraid to write
It's the book of my days, it's the book of my life
And it's cut like a fruit on the blade of a knife
And it's all there to see as the section reveals
There's some sorrow in every life
If it reads like a puzzle, a wandering maze
Then I won't understand 'til the end of my days
I'm still forced to remember,
Remember the words of my life
There are promises broken and promises kept
Angry words that were spoken, when I should have wept
There's a chapter of secrets, and words to confess
If I lose everything that I possess
There's a chapter on loss and a ghost who won't die
There's a chapter on love where the ink's never dry
There are sentences served in a prison I built out of lies.
Though the pages are numbered
I can't see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life
There's a chapter on fathers a chapter on sons
There are pages of conflicts that nobody won
And the battles you lost and your bitter defeat,
There's a page where we fail to meet
There are tales of good fortune that couldn't be planned
There's a chapter on god that I don't understand
There's a promise of Heaven and Hell but I'm damned if I see
Though the pages are numbered
I can't see where they lead
For the end is a mystery no-one can read
In the book of my life
Now the daylight's returning
And if one sentence is true
All these pages are burning
And all that's left is you
Though the pages are number
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fate and Destiny
Fate and Destiny
Who can tell us what Fate and Destiny are?
Who can tell us what our Fate is?
Who can tell us what our Destiny is?
Fate. Destiny.
People say we cannot choose our Fate, but we can choose our Destiny.
People say we are Fated or Destined to do/become something.
Fate. Destiny.
Are they different?
Are they the same?
People say we can choose Destiny and we are Fated to do it.
People say that our Destiny is open, but our Fate is sealed.
Are Fate and Destiny the same?
If our Destiny has yet to be chosen but our Fate is sealed, then is not our Destiny already chosen, but unseen to us until the opportune moment?
Fate. Destiny.
When is the opportune moment?
At what point in our life will our Fate and Destiny be revealed?
Or will we realize what our Fate and Destiny are only when it is too late?
Or will we pass our Fate and Destiny without knowing it?
Fate. Destiny.
If someone tells us what our Fate and Destiny are, will we like what we hear?
Or will you strive against the path set before you?
poem by Robert Grimes
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Long Ago
I loved a maiden, long ago,
She held within her hand my fate;
And in the ruddy sunset glow
We lingered at the garden gate.
The splendor of the western skies
Lay in a halo on her hair.
I gazed with worship in her eyes,
And deemed her true and knew her fair.
'Good night,' I said, and turned away;
She held me with her subtle smile.
I saw her red lips whisper 'stay,'
And so I lingered yet awhile.
'I love you, love you, sweet!' I said,
She laughed, and whispered, 'I love you.'
I kissed her small mouth, ripe and red,
And knew her fair, and deemed her true.
'Twas very, very long ago,
And I was young, and so was she;
My faith as love was strong, for oh!
The maid was all the world to me.
But as the sunset died away
And left the heavens cold and blue,
So died my dream of love one day.
The maid was only fair,
not
true.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Second Hand Books
Books! Books! Books! There are so many different designs.
There are some which, by the author, are personally signed.
Some books have pages with gilt edges, which look all posh.
Some have nice pictures on their covers, which are embossed.
Some books have hard covers, while some have soft.
Some are all dusty, where they’ve been kept in the loft.
Some books have fancy covers; some just have plain.
Some have suffered mishaps, and are now all stained.
Some books are all dog-eared at the corners of their pages.
Some have gone yellow, where they’ve been around ages.
Inside some books, there can be seen a pencilled name;
Someone, who once, on this particular book, had a claim.
Some are obviously well read; their spines are all creased.
From out of a book, amazing adventures can be unleashed.
Some books have pages which are spoiled or a bit torn.
Some have covers which are grubby and look well worn.
Some just have text, while others also include illustrations.
Some are former prize winners; once the toast of the nation.
There are books by famous authors, as well as the lesser known.
Some are former library books which, to the public, were loaned.
There are romances, poetry, classics, sci-fi, humour, and histories;
Gardening, cookery, travel, thrillers, manga, and murder mysteries.
In wooden bookcases, the books are categorised, and are neatly lined.
In a second hand bookshop, you just never know what you may find.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Wing Pages Of The Butterfly
at the nursery
while people
are at purchase
and at transactions
a blue butterfly
comes by
and opens its pages to me
swift and quick
and it says to me:
'Read! Read!
Read my pages! '
'I can’t read, '
I say,
amused
at this brash butterfly
'Read and write!
Read and write
about me,
and all flitting butterflies
Read
and write, you silly! '
it commands
And so I read
and I copy
and these are the words
the words from those
pages
the butterfly
holds up to me
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Wish to write down
I wish to write down in pages
Though considerable time has been elapsed with age
I am still alive and able to manage
Life has not come to stand still but confined to cage
I know everything has to come to an end one day
It is life cycle and accepted by all as the only way
One has to depart early, in time or late
No one can attribute it to only fate
It is indeed sorrowful state
Words may prove less to narrate
The life may seem to be void
Yet it is fact and no can avoid
Heat may seem to be missing beats
There will lot of grief and sorrowful heat
Sky may not provide any clue for loneliness
One has to live with a reality and face
Sea is know for its wide spread
We are convinced and can definitely read
It has depth and can retain any secret
Nothing will be allowed to come out to be let
Love is simply a treasure and to be concealed
To be retained at heart and not revealed
It should not be made laughing stock
It is not proper to make a joke
It might have turned into sorry tale
The face might have really turned white or pale
Yet it speaks volume about treasured love
One has to spend whole life and believe
You have made permanent home
You are always there and welcome
I shall hold it till the last breath
It may go down with only my death
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Mr Paddy's Capers.
Just when she thought
She'd found a place alone
To read her book, Mr Paddy
poked his nose between
Her and the open book, so
That pages are blanked out
By his huge head. Mr Paddy
Go off and annoy another,
She said, but he stood there
Determined to be where he
Was, between her and the
Brown covered book, held
Out in her small hands. Oh
Mr Paddy I cannot see the
Pages. Please go off and run
In the garden or in the kitchen
And steal a bone, she said. But
He wouldn't leave her alone,
He pushed his head against her
Young girl body, his damp nose
Dampening her wrist and her
White dress with blue sash, and
Dribble from his lips was wetting
The pages. Mr Paddy please let
Me be, I'm trying to read can't
You see? Mr Paddy's brown eyes
Scanned the pages, nothing there
But scribbled lines upon white paper,
And still he stood wet mouthed with
Big brown eyes and his silly old caper.
poem by Terry Collett
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Lines Extracted From A Dream
'I think of it like a book,
I dont care for your self-authored words
of pity and sorrow, though yes they are just.
It isn't the narrative in you that interests me...
It is those blank pages in you that hold my court,
All books have them; those blank pages at the end,
Unfilled and undetermined, where you havent yet scribbled.
They are yet to be subject to anything,
And even if they are not destined for a happily ever after,
That does not mean i can't hope to find solace and closure in them.
What is to stop us writing our own fable in spite of what is already written?
What already is, is,
But what will be is ours to fathom through the velvet folds Of fate.
Surely.'
poem by Graham Stone
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Books
The universe (which others call the library). . .
-Jorge Luis Borges
Books which are stitched up the center with coarse white thread
Books on the beach with sunglass-colored pages
Books about food with pictures of weeping grapefruits
Books about baking bread with browned corners
Books about long-haired Frenchmen with uncut pages
Books of erotic engravings with pages that stick
Books about inns whose stars have sputtered out
Books of illuminations surrounded by darkness
Books with blank pages & printed margins
Books with fanatical footnotes in no-point type
Books with book lice
Books with rice-paper pastings
Books with book fungus blooming over their pages
Books with pages of skin with flesh-colored bindings
Books by men in love with the letter O
Books which smell of earth whose pages turn
poem by Erica Jong
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Golden Days
Another day of toil and strife,
Another page so white,
Within that fateful Log of Life
That I and all must write;
Another page without a stain
To make of as I may,
That done, I shall not see again
Until the Judgment Day.
Ah, could I, could I backward turn
The pages of that Book,
How often would I blench and burn!
How often loathe to look!
What pages would be meanly scrolled;
What smeared as if with mud;
A few, maybe, might gleam like gold,
Some scarlet seem as blood.
O Record grave, God guide my hand
And make me worthy be,
Since what I write to-day shall stand
To all eternity;
Aye, teach me, Lord of Life, I pray,
As I salute the sun,
To bear myself that every day
May be a Golden One.
poem by Robert William Service
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Fate vs Destiny
To find your true happiness tempt fate to discover your destiny.
You must hearken back to when real happiness was known
Remember its impact on your life
Opportunity knocks, open the door, you will see it coming.
You may be surprised to discover fate can mask your destiny.
Your fate and your destiny are not one in the same.
Your fate is what you settle for in life.
What you take as your life marches on day by day, an obligation to life.
Destiny is the gate you find at the end of the path you blaze
As you strive to attain life’s goal open the gate and find love,
Happiness and contentment; true peace of heart and mind.
Fate may leave you at destiny’s gate at the end of life.
Knowing only the travails of your battles to achieve life’s goal
Knowing not the sweetness of your victories.
The gate may not be open, leaving you empty
At the end of life's journey.
The path to your destiny is yours and yours alone
Ask yourself whether you wish to settle for your fate or…
Tempt your fate and discover the path.
The dark side of life; fear and self doubt can blur and cover the path.
Not always seen in the clear; hidden in your memory
Or on the full plate before you the path is always there.
Those who have known the depth of their love, the strength of their spirit,
Will find a guiding light illuminates their path.
In these qualities of character you will discover your true self
And the key to unlock the gate.
You will recognize the guide of your light.
The choice is yours, settle for fate or follow the light,
Find the key, unlock the gate … discover your destiny.
poem by William J. Henderson Jr.
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Convoy of Doubt
Have I sealed my fate?
As I write these words
a wretched burden
overlooks the page.
Have I sealed my fate?
I'm almost wary to
write another word.
Or is it too late?
Have I sealed my fate?
Every word I write
seems to come true,
brought to life in some way.
Have I sealed my fate?
I think I should stop
writing anything,
lest it be profane.
poem by Shalyn Stachmus
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Listen, Learn, Read On
In ages past when spells were cast
In a time of men in steel
When a man was taught no special thing
It was all done by feel
So listen, so learn, so read on
You gotta turn the page, read the book of taliesyn
Hear the song of lovely joan
Her sound so sweet and clear
In the courtroom of the king
Among children and the peers
So listen, so learn, so read on
You gotta turn the page, read the book of taliesyn
now hear ye the words of taliesyn,
On the foaming beach of the ocean,
In the day of trouble,
I shall be of more service to thee
Than three hundred salmon...
The hare he bounds across the page
Past castles white and fair
Past dreaming chessmen on their boards
With a fools mate as a snare
So listen, so learn, so read on
You gotta turn the page, read the book of taliesyn
three times I have been born
I know this from meditation...
The bird he flies the distance
From pages two to six
Past minstrels in their boxes
To the waters of the styx
So listen, so learn, so read on
You gotta turn the page, read the book of taliesyn
Dont take the pictures lightly
Listen to their sound
For from their coloured feeling
Experience is found
So listen, so learn, so read on
You gotta turn the page, read the book of taliesyn
all the sciences of the world are collected in my breast,
For I know what has been, what is now,
And what hereafter will occur...
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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LIFE… An Epic.
Life is a book of epic!
Where are the pages to write the accounts?
Who gave this precious book,
And kept it open in front of the humans?
And kindled a lamp called life
For him to read at his will,
And forget himself, and live?
Enjoy each sentence in this epic.
It is embedded with exultation
And delight; vibrant with passion.
And love and lust, ravished by charms.
The lamp may extinguish to day or
Tomorrow, then there will be utter darkness,
The book will be illegible and fade away.
Idiots try to write accounts in its pages.
They add and subtract continuously.
But finally, all additions and subtractions
Turns to be erroneous, and faulty….
poem by Kunjubi Varghese
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Life Is Like A Book
Life is like a book
Written by Selvin ‘Ewan’ McRae
Life is like an open book
Can, t predict the future
Got to read between the lines
Absorbing the culture
Get ready for tomorrow
Life is love
Love can becomes hate
Hate can becomes sorrow
Review your past
Get ready for tomorrow
Flip the pages, turn the chapters
Grasp the contents, form your character
Decipher life’s journey and rule your destiny
Get ready for tomorrow
Slowly turn the pages
Don, t read too fast
Acknowledge the acknowledgements
Good friendship will last
Get ready for tomorrow
What you reap is what you sow
Don, t assume make sure to know
Erase dark memories,
Cherish those that glows
Get ready for tomorrow
poem by Selvin Mcrae
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You Must Now Walk Alone
A chapter has ended
A new one begins
The book of life trembles
Because of the unknown
Turing back the pages
You see the joy
The sorrows of old
And smile at each memory
Of adventure untold
Your heart skips a beat
As you read each page of gold
And think to yourself
When did you travel the path?
Of life alone
Searching the pages
Were two foot steps entwine
You see the paths they walk
As they separate and untwine
And they get lost
Between the pages of time
You search you look
When did they become one?
Each one walking on their own
You cry in vain as you realize
You're all alone
Standing on the pathway
A tear trickles down your cheek
But to continue your Journey
You must now walk alone.
poem by Kaila George
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My Fate Has Been Sealed....
My Fate Has Been Sealed....
your love placed inside my heart...
came to me without prior notice...
owned it and got into it to burn this heart...
how pity this heart...
this heart which i hold..
pity you are, my heart from this love...
from those fires which burned you...
and changed your life, up to down...
is that your fate...?
this fate, which wrote on you...?
to be always in love..
in love with whom who don`t know how to take care of you...
who owns this rights...
to make you always in pains...
who can change this...
and who can put the end to this fate..
pity you are, my pity heart...
i know that i shall meet my fate oneday...
but i need a fate which my heart deserve...
i need a happiness...
the happiness which i seek and dream always about...
i will accept my fate for what it was...
but if this fate completed my life with you...
poem by Hazem Al Jaber
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Dancing with Sorrow
Amidst a garden in a twist of fate
I dance with Sorrow in an evening late
We hold our hands and tend our steps in pace
Then glide like silk with songs of Tears in grace
And Sorrow knows just how to blend us fair
Her dance entwines with mine we float in air
While Tears had weaved us songs in hurtful bends
We drift with her and now we're three of friends
With Tears I sing and soothe the night away
And Sorrow lures my eyes to dance and stay
In trance with Sorrow's hand I dance along
And spend the night with Tear's lingering song
So soon we part and each should go his way
with trust in hearts to meet by fate someday
poem by Roland Jr Jamito
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