Against Unworthy Praise
O HEART, be at peace, because
Nor knave nor dolt can break
What's not for their applause,
Being for a woman's sake.
Enough if the work has seemed,
So did she your strength renew,
A dream that a lion had dreamed
Till the wilderness cried aloud,
A secret between you two,
Between the proud and the proud.
What, still you would have their praise!
But here's a haughtier text,
The labyrinth of her days
That her own strangeness perplexed;
And how what her dreaming gave
Earned slander, ingratitude,
From self-same dolt and knave;
Aye, and worse wrong than these.
Yet she, singing upon her road,
Half lion, half child, is at peace.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Seven day-deams
When I was a child, I had a dream
A dream to be like some one
I do not remember, who or why it was
When I was a boy, I had a dream
A dream to be a grown up
Amongst grown ups, as I envisioned
When I was a youth, I had a dream
A dream to make my mother proudly
Cos', she was dreaming to be proud of me
When I was a man, I had a dream
A dream to reach a plateau, one day
Amongst my colleagues already up there
Day I became a father, I had a dream
A dream to be a proud father
That being my bounden and divine duty
I had no choice, but, strove day and night
Lokzi, Podzi and Chutzi, most precious trio
Thank you, for making me proud, at last
Can never be better, I am sure
For, I shall not dream any more, for you
Being proud, nonetheless, I have a dream
A dream to say-so the world aloud
Best way to be proud, if you like
Is to dream, dream and dream
As a matured, I have a final dream
A dream to stop dreaming any more
Day I tame my craving desires
I'll be there, then, adieu to all of you all!
Jayatissa K.Liyanage
poem by Jayatissa Liyanage
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Dreaming Country
I am sitting on a porch in a swing,
Dreaming country and enjoying the spring
Looking down a road that not on any map
While picking the guitar lying across my lab,
Dreaming country and living the life of song
It's the kind of living where you can't go wrong.
Dreaming country and walking the road of song
Singing proud, playing my guitar that I brought along
The tunes just come to me and the words run free
Country honey and the old oak tree
I feel the rhythm of the beat within my heart
The words roll out country; like a work of art.
Dreaming country and living the life of song
It's the kind of living where you can't go wrong.
Dreaming country and walking the road of song
Singing proud, playing my guitar that I brought along
Tell me do you feel the rhythm and the country mood
Do you hear the sound of loving that you can't elude.
Sit back and enjoy the tunes, let's dream of some country
It's the kind of music that keeps you so damn hungry
Dreaming country and living the life of song
It's the kind of living where you can't go wrong.
Dreaming country and walking the road of song
Singing proud, playing my guitar that I brought along
poem by Rik Bertrand
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A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson, glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition.
Earl of Kent in The Tragedy of King Lear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fascination Of What's Difficult
THE fascination of what's difficult
Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent
Spontaneous joy and natural content
Out of my heart. There's something ails our colt
That must, as if it had not holy blood
Nor on Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud,
Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and jolt
As though it dragged road-metal. My curse on plays
That have to be set up in fifty ways,
On the day's war with every knave and dolt,
Theatre business, management of men.
I swear before the dawn comes round again
I'll find the stable and pull out the bolt.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Lion II
I am the lion of Africa!
But, living in the jungle of peace;
I do spring out with my tail for many to follow,
However, i do speak tendering words with my lover.
The lion!
Life is guided by the muse of love;
And like where peace, unity and joy do live.
Sow on my land and enjoy the fruits of your labour! !
For, i am living in the jungle of love;
And, i want to care for you.
I am living in the jungle of peace with lot of visions,
In the very place of mystery!
But, with a secret journey to reach out to your heart;
For, i am the lion of Africa and,
I am ready to share my jungle with you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Wild At Heart
The lion listened as the breeze
Passed gently on each side
And on the ground he took his ease,
Enjoying all supplied,
As if this hour was a gift,
A time-out if he stayed,
As if to give his heart a lift
As long as he delayed...
Though wild at heart and strong and brave
And fast upon his feet,
He took the gift that God then gave
For peace like this seemed sweet...
A shift from darkness to the light,
Contentment deep within,
Such that for now this time felt right,
Enough to make him grin...
The lion listened, heartbeat slow,
His muscles not so tense,
Beneath the sunshine's gentle glow
With all its dividends...
Then suddenly, he roared aloud,
Reminding us at length,
That he, of course, was mighty proud
And still quite full of strength!
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Wild At Heart'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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To Jim
I gaze upon my son once more,
With eyes and heart that tire,
As solemnly he stands before
The screen drawn round the fire;
With hands behind clasped hand in hand,
Now loosely and now fast—
Just as his fathers used to stand
For generations past.
A fair and slight and childish form,
And big brown thoughtful eyes—
God help him! for a life of storm
And stress before him lies:
A wanderer and a gipsy wild,
I’ve learnt the world and know,
For I was such another child—
Ah, many years ago!
But in those dreamy eyes of him
There is no hint of doubt—
I wish that you could tell me, Jim,
The things you dream about.
Dream on, my son, that all is true
And things not what they seem—
’Twill be a bitter day for you
When wakened from your dream.
You are a child of field and flood,
But with the gipsy strains
A strong Norwegian sailor’s blood
Is running through your veins.
Be true, and slander never stings,
Be straight, and all may frown—
You’ll have the strength to grapple things
That dragged your father down.
These lines I write with bitter tears
And failing heart and hand,
But you will read in after years,
And you will understand:
You’ll hear the slander of the crowd,
They’ll whisper tales of shame,
But days will come when you’ll be proud
To bear your father’s name.
But oh! beware of bitterness
When you are wronged, my lad—
I wish I had the faith in men
And women that I had!
’Tis better far (for I have felt
The sadness in my song)
To trust all men and still be wronged
Than to trust none and wrong.
Be generous and still do good
And banish while you live
The spectre of ingratitude
That haunts the ones who give.
But if the crisis comes at length
That your future might be marred,
Strike hard, my son, with all your strength!
For your own self’s sake, strike hard!
poem by Henry Lawson
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I Want To Keep Dreaming
I dream when it’s night,
I dream when it’s day,
I dream of what I once did,
I dream of what I will say.
I dream of you,
I dream of me,
I dream we are together,
Together we are free.
I dream of sailing,
Drifting on a cloud,
I dream we are floating,
And together we are proud.
We are proud of each other,
Of what we have done,
Proud of the children,
That haven’t begun.
Don’t wake me yet,
I want to keep dreaming,
Dreaming of a time,
When we were dreaming together.
poem by Cathryn Martin
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Coptic Song
LEAVE we the pedants to quarrel and strive,
Rigid and cautious the teachers to be!
All of the wisest men e'er seen alive
Smile, nod, and join in the chorus with me:
"Vain 'tis to wait till the dolt grows less silly!
Play then the fool with the fool, willy-nilly,--
Children of wisdom,--remember the word!"
Merlin the old, from his glittering grave,
When I, a stripling, once spoke to him,--gave
Just the same answer as that I've preferr'd;
"Vain 'tis to wait till the dolt grows less silly!
Play then the fool with the fool, willy-nilly,--
Children of wisdom,--remember the word!"
And on the Indian breeze as it booms,
And in the depths of Egyptian tombs,
Only the same holy saying I've heard:
"Vain 'tis to wait till the dolt grows less silly!
Play then the fool with the fool, willy-nilly,--
Children of wisdom,--remember the word!"
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Alton Locke's Song
Weep, weep, weep and weep,
For pauper, dolt, and slave!
Hark! from wasted moor and fen,
Feverous alley, stifling den,
Swells the wail of Saxon men-
Work! or the grave!
Down, down, down and down,
With idler, knave, and tyrant!
Why for sluggards cark and moil?
He that will not live by toil
Has no right on English soil!
God's word's our warrant!
Up, up, up and up!
Face your game and play it!
The night is past, behold the sun!
The idols fall, the lie is done!
The Judge is set, the doom begun!
Who shall stay it?
On Torridge, May 1849.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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The heart never grows better by age I fear rather worse always harder. A young liar will be an old one, and a young knave will only be a greater knave as he grows older.
quote by Philip Dormer Stanhope Chesterfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bias
even when the lion
smiles at us
we still withhold
confidence
even if the lion is
sincere
and does not think of
evil
like eating all of us
as prey
we always think of
the worst
even if it is just a picture
of the lion
smiling at us
we still suspect
that this can be a trap
another deception
a lion is a lion is a lion
and will always be lion
no matter what
as simple as that
ask the wind
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The heart never grows better by age; I fear rather worse, always harder. A young liar will be an old one, and a young knave will only be a greater knave as he grows older.
quote by Lord Chesterfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mean Ole Lion
(charlie smalls)
Say what you wanna
But i'm here to stay
'cause i'm a mean ole lion
You can go where you're gonna
But don't get in my way
I'm a mean ole lion
You'll be standing in a draft
If you don't hear me laugh
And if you happen to come around
Well, you best not make me frown
For i just might knock you down
I'm a mean ole lion
You know i'm ready to fight
And turn your day into night
'cause i'm a mean ole lion
If you're half bright
You'll detour to the right
From a mean ole lion
All you strangers better beware
This is the king of the jungle here
And if i happen to let you slide
Don't just stand here
Run and hide
You just caught my better side
I'm a mean ole lion
Look,
You better beware
This is the king of the jungle here
And if i happen to let you slide
Don't stand here
Run and hide
You just caught my better side
I'm a mean ole lion
I'm a mean ole lion
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(I'm A) Mean Ole Lion
(Charlie Smalls)
Say what you wanna
But I'm here to stay
'Cause I'm a mean ole lion
You can go where you're gonna
But don't get in my way
I'm a mean ole lion
You'll be standing in a draft
If you don't hear me laugh
And if you happen to come around
Well, you best not make me frown
For I just might knock you down
I'm a mean ole lion
You know I'm ready to fight
And turn your day into night
'Cause I'm a mean ole lion
If you're half bright
You'll detour to the right
From a mean ole lion
All you strangers better beware
This is the king of the jungle here
And if I happen to let you slide
Don't just stand here
Run and hide
You just caught my better side
I'm a mean ole lion
Look,
You better beware
This is the king of the jungle here
And if I happen to let you slide
Don't stand here
Run and hide
You just caught my better side
I'm a mean ole lion
I'm a mean ole lion
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strong Black Woman
Baby, such a long life, my child
So many stories I have to tell you
Of slavery and of tragedy
Sit down and listen to my tales
Everybody thinks that the strong black woman died
No, she only stood back because she had not cried
She took a minute to rest. She cried. Her heart so heavy
But she’s back, baby. And child, she’s so pretty
I’m a strong black woman, and I am fighting
Don’t mess with me; I’ll leave your eyes shining
I give these children all the love they crave
I’ll beat away any energy that makes life grave
Hallelujah, the strong black woman still lives
Hallelujah, the strong black woman still gives
Hallelujah, can you feel the strength of her?
Hallelujah, this woman is one you can’t deter
Praise the lord’s name and speak in tongues
May all the strong black women live so long
I am a strong black woman, I am here
A strong black woman lives in my heart
Hallelujah, the black woman is so strong
Hallelujah, this has become my favorite song
Hallelujah, the strong black woman prospers
Hallelujah, she is no different than her brothers
The strong black woman never died, she lives
See, no matter what happens she always survives
I am here, I am a strong black woman, in disguise
And this newly strong black woman never dies
Praise the lord’s name the black woman is back
Now the world knows that we survive any attack
Give her all the suffering children or people in despair
Because the strong black woman will return them to air
The strong black woman was not lynched or killed
She gave herself a proud face and lived on so skilled
Praise the lord’s name and know that she lives on
Hallelujah, the strong black woman will never be gone
poem by German Alcala
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Thug Love
I need you; I feel the hurt
Trying to numb it, but it just don't work
I could take a sip, or I could take a hit
Pop a few pills, don't help a bit
Slam on the gas, ain't going nowhere
But in the end, nowhere's better than here
My baby, baby, baby
Though he's not here now
My baby, baby, baby
I bet you wonder how
I could say I'm tru, I'm magic, he's real
We'll get through, it's tragic, we'll heal
I knew one day he'd get down, he'd kneel
And then he'd tell me the way he feel
But even before, there was a connection
God sent us in the same direction
My baby, baby, baby
Got the heart of the biggest lion
My baby, baby, baby
Biggest problem he never lying
Three and a half, three and a half
Please tell me your talking bout months
Three and a half, three and a half
Shit, that's just tough
Countin down the days,2 hundo to go
And when I get to one, baby only you know
poem by Jennifer Peckins
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Lion In The Winter
Lion in my winter.
Im a lion with no crown.
You wanna make me big man , a star on a screen.
Some kind of james brown or something in between.
But when I ask for money you smother me in charms.
I cant live on glory when your bendin both my arms.
I , I was a lion in winter.
And man I had friends for miles around.
I was a lion in my winter.
What goods a lion lord, without a crown.
Youre living in a cave man ,upon your marble throne.
You think you own the heavens, but youve got to be alone.
You know I prayed for sunshine, a woman with my name.
I dont want to live man, you gave away the game.
I, I was a lion in winter.
And man I had friends for miles around.
I was a lion in my winter.
What goods a lion lord , without a crown.
(repeat last verse and fade out )
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lion Symbol
Dedicated to the United Kingdom The lion symbol of England is of its strength;
It is blessed with good friends, and life's length.
The lion has many friends;
Most sociable adorable grins. Its voice is heard among the land,
For every lion, and every man's grand.
The symbol of England to this day.
We respect her strength in every way. Our mother land we do adore,
She became our foreign shore.
So remember to ask God for strength;
Good life blessed with quality,
And not just length. A life filled with love remembering the peace dove.
Asking God to help us all.
Bless England, and America's call,
The Lion, and England's strength.
American treaty blessed with length.
poem by Iris Caudle
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The Teacher
A Cross is slanting ‘tween two withered trees -
I saw him first in peace, amid a crowd
Of streets, nor dreamed him ever one of these,
So wistfully he mused, so shyly proud,
So chalk-besmeared he walked his weary pace.
A space went, - and on an early day
Within the trench, I saw a half-known face
Awake with wonder; a child-lived heart at play
With dreamed romance: a Drake-keen eye ashine
For newer worlds……A thunder tore the line!…..
A shell burst!….. He smiled as Sidney smiled-
And fell…..There came the crying of a child,
…..A wave of little hands…..a soft breeze
The cross is slanting ‘tween two withered trees.
poem by Leon Gellert
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