The Three Hermits
THREE old hermits took the air
By a cold and desolate sea,
First was muttering a prayer,
Second rummaged for a flea;
On a windy stone, the third,
Giddy with his hundredth year,
Sang unnoticed like a bird:
'Though the Door of Death is near
And what waits behind the door,
Three times in a single day
I, though upright on the shore,
Fall asleep when I should pray.'
So the first, but now the second:
'We're but given what we have eamed
When all thoughts and deeds are reckoned,
So it's plain to be discerned
That the shades of holy men
Who have failed, being weak of will,
Pass the Door of Birth again,
And are plagued by crowds, until
They've the passion to escape.'
Moaned the other, 'They are thrown
Into some most fearful shape.'
But the second mocked his moan:
'They are not changed to anything,
Having loved God once, but maybe
To a poet or a king
Or a witty lovely lady.'
While he'd rummaged rags and hair,
Caught and cracked his flea, the third,
Giddy with his hundredth year,
Sang unnoticed like a bird.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Related quotes
409
Shes real fine my 409
Shes real fine my 409
My 409
Well I saved my pennies and I saved my dimes
(giddy up giddy up 409)
For I knew there would be a time
(giddy up giddy up 409)
When I would buy a brand new 409
(409, 409)
Giddy up giddy up giddy up 409
(giddy up giddy up 409)
Giddy up 409
(giddy up giddy up 409)
Giddy up 409
(giddy up giddy up 409)
Giddy up 40...
Nothing can catch her
Nothing can touch my 409
409 ooooo
(giddy up giddy up oooo)
(giddy up giddy up oooo)
(giddy up giddy up oooo)
(giddy up giddy up)
When I take her to the track she really shines
(giddy up giddy up 409)
She always turns in the fastest times
(giddy up giddy up 409)
My four speed dual quad posi-traction 409
(409, 409, 409, 409)
Giddy up giddy up giddy up 409
(giddy up giddy up 409)
Giddy up 409
(giddy up giddy up 409)
Giddy up 409
(giddy up giddy up 409)
Giddy up 40...
Nothing can catch her
Nothing can touch my 409
(409 409 409 409)
Giddy up 409
(409 409 409 409)
Giddy up 409
(409 409 409 409)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Making Lvoe With Her Own Bed
you are just near me
but between us is a door
and between that door
is another door, and so
when you say a word
i have to figure out what
you really mean,
when i open the door
there is a glass wall and
i thought it was you
humming,
it is cold tonight
i am closing a window
out there
i see a black bird perched
upon a branch,
it is cold and i am shutting
myself for any
kind of significance like
what if the bird dies?
what if the bird is you
disguised as a bird?
tonight i cannot sleep
something bothers me
all these thoughts bother me
there is no note
that you are coming back
from that long trip
away from home
was it Sarah who said
that she is making love with her bed?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Flea
A flea that bit you had bitten me too.
The two bloods mingled for single blood.
The flea’s body is our marriage lobby.
Neither shame nor sin would accrue since than.
Nor would you have grown any weaker too.
By yielding to me and getting my blood
You would shed no grace nor honour either.
You will make me than the flea happier.
Your yielding to me will not do more harm
Than what the flea has done to you, dear.
[the verse of John Donne, The Flea, rewritten]
20.12.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Tablets
The tablet stood on the counter,
Pulling us aside like a trap;
The door cracked afterwards,
Like Saturn’s rings or eggs.
Only a year turned us upside down,
Left the door locked, at the end.
I grabbed the door before the floor
Collapsed and this ringing started.
The door cracked again, repetitively,
Once it broke, the door collapsed.
I pulled the refuse onto the counter
To await sleep and the medicine.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Truly, Truly, This Is The End
They say deaths an open door
Into another room
Within the city of the dead
(Our New Kingdom)
They say we walk like dreams
Sharing the same breath
Seeing through the same eyes
(A collective spirit)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
They say the Earth it gives no peace
Nor does it take away
We all survive the grave
(Unfortunate eternal)
They say that in times past
A king walked in the sky
Until dethroned by man
(Tribe of Judas)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
As we pray (As we pray)
On his grave (On his grave)
Or words fall and decay (And decay)
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
Truly, truly, this is the end
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
It's not the same
I'm plagued with pain and I can't let go
This is the end
song performed by by Zao
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Bird
The father sits in his lonely room,
Outside sings a little bird.
But the shadows are laden with death and gloom,
And the song is all unheard.
The father's heart is the home of sorrow;
His breast is the seat of grief!
Who will hunt the paper for him on the morrow -
Who will bring him sweet relief
From wearing his thoughts with innocent chat?
Who will find his slippers and bring his hat?
Still the little bird sings
And flutters her wings;
The refrain of her song is, 'Gos knows best!
He giveth His little children rest.'
What can she know of these sorrowful things?
The mother sits by the desolate hearth,
And weeps o'er a vacant chair.
Sorrow has taken the place of mirth -
Joy has resigned to despair.
Bitter the cup the mother is drinking,
So bitter the tear-drops start.
Sad are the thoughts the mother is thinking -
Oh, they will break her heart.
Who will on errands, and romp and play,
And mimic the robins the livelong day?
Still the little bird sings
And flutters her wings;
'God reigns in heaven, and He will keep
The dear little children that fall asleep.'
What can she know of these sorrowful things?
Grandmother sits by the open door,
And her tears fall down like rain.
Was there ever a household so sad before,
Will it ever be glad agaiin?
Many unwelcome thoughts come flitting
Into the granddame's mind.
Who will take up the stitches she drops in knitting?
Who will her snuff-box find?
Who'll bring her glasses, and wheel her chair,
And tie her kerchief, and comb her hair?
Still the little bird sings
And flutters her wings;
'God above doeth all things well,
I sang it the same when my nestlings fell.'
Ah! this knows the bird of these sorrowful things.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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I woke up to a lullaby
I woke up to a lullaby
The birds sang a song for me
They sang their hearts out all the while
Dancing on the maple tree
Each bird sang a different song
That melted into one
A song full of promises
For the day that’s just begun
They sang of sorrow
Of happiness and mirth
The sang of marriage
And of birth
They sang of people laughing
And of them crying
They sang of sickness
They sang of dying
This little song
They sang for me
Made me think
Made me free
Loquacious
this afternoon, i talk a lot, and the more i talk,
the more words flowed from my mouth, the more i become less
of myself,
that is the irony of talking, the more i empty myself of this burden
using words, the lighter i become, the more useless i become of myself,
words and more words,
the more i have of them, the more meaningless my thoughts have become
and they who are listening have become more silent than ever,
i know, their minds are somewhere else, and i know that they know
that there is this spirit in front of them so restless,
wriggling like a worm, jumping like a horse, flapping like a bird
wanting to get rid of something: the fruit wanting to be free from the worm,
the horse from a gadfly, and the bird from the pricking flea....
what else can they say? they must have been saying.
we perfectly understand, we have been there, we were once a fruit
with a worm in our pulp, a horse with a gadfly in our tail,
a bird unable to get rid of the flea....
we were rotten once, we jumped the more, and now we are flying away.
what a life we have, we are never free, and we are never for even once
comfortable with what we are and what we have....
what we do not have of course, is what bothers us the most.
be it a horse, a bird, or a fruit, a flea, a worm, a gadfly of old
like what Socrates once mentioned before he took the fatal poison.
well he died, and here we are always trying to remember.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There’s Only The Two Of Us Here
I camped one night in an empty hut on the side of a lonely hill.
I didn’t go much on empty huts, but the night was awful chill.
So I boiled me billy and had me tea and seen that the door was shut.
Then I went to bed in am empty bunk by the side of the old slab shed.
It must have been about twelve o’clock – I was feeling cosy and warm –
When at the foot of me bunk I sees a horrible ghostly form
It seemed in shape to be half an ape with a head like a chimpanzee
But wot the hell was it doin there, and wot did it want with me?
You may say if you please that I had DTs or call me a crimson liar,
But I wish you had seen it as plain as me, with it’s eyes like coals of fire.
Then it gave a moan and a horrible groan that curdled me blood with fear,
And ‘There’s only the two of us here,’ it ses. ‘There’s only the two of us here!’
I kept one eye on the old hut door and one on the awful brute;
I only wanted to dress meself and get to the door and scoot.
But I couldn’t find where I’d left me boots so I hadn’t a chance to clear
And, ‘There’s only the two of us here,’ it moans. ‘There’s only the two of us here!’
I hadn’t a thing to defend meself, not even a stick or stone,
And ‘There’s only the two of here!’ It ses again with a horrible groan.
I thought I’d better make some reply, though I reckoned me end was near,
‘By the Holy Smoke, when I find me boots, there’ll be only one of us here.’
I get me hands on me number tens and out through the door I scoots,
And I lit the whole of the ridges up with the sparks from me blucher boots.
So I’ve never slept in a hut since then, and I tremble and shake with fear
When I think of the horrible form wot moaned, ‘There’s only the two of us here!’
poem by Edward Harrington
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Cold Snow Fall
The snow fall this year will be cold.
How will the homeless surive;
living on your doorstep,
or in your garden?
They will trudge through the snow,
their feet getting wet.
Their hands getting frostbite.
Their lips turning blue.
The snow fall this year will be cold.
Whining for food at your door.
Limping and shivering from the cold.
Why should they be treated like this?
The strays will try to do what they can to surive;
eating leftovers,
scrounging on the bins,
being swept away with a broom.
The snow fall this year will be cold.
You'll be at home,
getting warm by the fire,
opening gifts.
Your door is shut,
the curtains are drawn.
You have no clue what is going on outside,
in the cold cruel world.
poem by Scarlet Outlaw
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Her Song
I sang that song on Sunday,
To witch an idle while,
I sang that song on Monday,
As fittest to beguile;
I sang it as the year outwore,
And the new slid in;
I thought not what might shape before
Another would begin.
I sang that song in summer,
All unforeknowingly,
To him as a new-comer
From regions strange to me:
I sang it when in afteryears
The shades stretched out,
And paths were faint; and flocking fears
Brought cup-eyed care and doubt.
Sings he that song on Sundays
In some dim land afar,
On Saturdays, or Mondays,
As when the evening star
Glimpsed in upon his bending face
And my hanging hair,
And time untouched me with a trace
Of soul-smart or despair?
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Sleigh Ride
Just hear those sleigh bells jingling
Ring ting tingling too
Come on it's lovely weather
For a Sleigh Ride together with you
Out side the snow is falling
And friends are calling "You hoo!"
Come on it's lovely weather
For a Sleigh Ride together with you
Giddy-up giddy-up giddy-up let's go
Let's look at the snow
We're riding in a wonderland of snow
Giddy-up giddy-up giddy-up it's grand
Just holding your hand
We're gliding along with sonf a wintry fairy land
Our cheeks are nice and rosy
And comfy cozy are we
We're snuggled up together
Like two birds of a feather would be
Let's take the road before us
And sing a chorus or two
Come on it's lovely weather
For a Sleigh Ride together with you
There's a birthday party at the home of Farmer Gray
It'll be the perfect ending to a perfect day
We'll be singing the songs we love to sing without a single stop
At the fireplace while we watch the chestnuts pop
There's a happy feeling nothing in the world can buy
When they pass around the coffee and the pumpkin pie
It'll nearly be like print by Currier and Ives
These wonderful things are the things we remember all through our lives
song performed by by Hilary Duff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleigh Ride
(*) just hear those sleigh bells jingling
Ring-ting-tingling too
Come on its lovely weather
For a sleigh ride together with you
Outside the snow is falling
And friends are calling yoo-hoo
Come on its lovely weather
For a sleigh ride together with you
(**) lets take the road before us
And sing a chorus or two
Come on its lovely weather
For a sleigh ride together with you
Giddy up, giddy up, giddy up, lets go
Lets look at the snow
Were riding in a wonderland of snow
Giddy up, giddy up, giddy up, its grand
Just holding your hand
Our cheeks are nice and rosy
And comfy cozy are we
Were smuggled up together
Like birds of a feather would be
Repeat (**)
Theres a christmas party
At the home of farmer gray
Itll be the perfect ending
Of a perfect day
Well be singing the songs
We love to sing
Without a single stop
At the fireplace while we watch
The chestnuts pop
Pop pop pop
Theres a happy feeling nothing
In the world can buy
As they pass around the coffee
And pumpkin pie
Itll nearly be like a picture print
By currier and ives
These wonderful things are the things
We remember all through our lives
Repeat (*)
Repeat (**)
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Death
My death waits like an old roue
So confident, Ill go his way
Whistle to him
And the passing time...
My death waits like a Bible truth
At the funeral of my youth
We drank for that -
The passing time..
My death waits like
A witch at night
As surely as our love is right
Lets not think of that or the passing time
But whatever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do...
Angel or devil, I dont care
For in front of that door...
There is you.
My death waits like a beggar blind
Who sees the world through an unlit mind
Throw him a dime
For the passing time...
My death waits to allow my friends
A few good times
Before it ends
Lets not think about
And the passing time..
My death waits there, between your thighs,
Your cool fingers will close my eyes,
Lets not think about the passing time.
For whatever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do...
Angel or devil, I dont care
For in front of that door...
There is you.
My death waits there among the leaves
In magicians mysterious sleeves,
Rabbits and dogs, and the passing time...
My death waits there, among the flowers
Where the blackest shadows cowers
So lets pick lilacs
The passing time..
My death waits there, in a double bed
Sails of oblivion and my head
Lets not think about
The passing time.
But whatever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do...
Angel or devil, I dont care
For, in front of that door...
There is you.
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Overgrown Grave Stone
I never thought that weeds would grow
Though years they have been left, I know
Somehow I thought that nature's way
Would shout "a loved one here is lay! "
Blooms, plants and flowers cheering
Instead, you're slowly disappearing
I brush the plants, hair off your face
A stone cold touch is my embrace
Relief: I stop and find a note
At least that someone's wrote, I hoped
"lipstick, chicken, Reggae sauce"
A list discarded at your door
But why? As I write, do passers pass me wide?
I am not sad, do not cry
I know, to passers by this stone,
Is left untouched and overgrown
And though, I know,
your type may disappear
I do not vow to come each year
Instead, to you I will invest
In what you've left, I'll do my best
I vow to teach and learn and grow
To live and let my colours show
I promise not to waste my time
Planting bird food at your side
For by this slab, you do not lie
I am your stone, I'll make me shine.
poem by Peggy Pollock
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Little Bird
Little bird up in a tree
Looked down and sang a song to me
Of how it began
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
The trout in the shiny brook
Gave the worm another look
And told me not to worry
About my life
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Tree in my own backyard
Stands all alone
Bears fruit for me
And it tastes so good
Wheres my pretty bird
He must have flown away
If I keep singing
Hell come back someday
Dawn, birds still gone
Guess Ill go mow the lawn
What a day, what a day
Oooo, what a beautiful day this is
Ooooooooo
Little bird up in a tree
Looked down a sang a song to me
The trout in a shiny brook
Gave the worm another look
And told me not to worry about my life
Little bird looked down
And sang a song to me
Little bird looked down
And sang a songto me
Little bird looked down
And sang a song to me
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleigh Ride
Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring-ting-tingling, too.
Come on, its lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you.
Outside the snow is falling and friends are calling, yoo-hoo!
Come on, its lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you.
Giddy-yap, giddy-yap, giddy-yap, lets go,
Lets look at the show
Were riding in a wonderland of snow.
Giddy-yap, giddy-yap, giddy-yap, its grand,
Just holding your hand.
Were gliding along with a song of a wintery fairyland.
Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy-cozy are we.
Were snuggled up together like two birds of a feather would be.
Lets take that road before us and sing a chorus or two.
Come on, its lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you.
Theres a birthday party at the home of farmer gray.
Itll be the perfect ending of a perfect day.
Well be singing the songs we love to sing without a single stop,
At the fireplace while we watch the chestnuts pop. pop! pop! pop!
Theres a happy feeling nothing in the world can buy,
When they pass around the coffee and the pumpkin pie.
Itll nearly be like a picture print by currier and ives.
These wonderful things are the things we remember all through our lives!
Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring-ting-tingling, too.
Come on, its lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you.
Outside the snow is falling and friends are calling, yoo-hoo!
Come on, its lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Going Back To Old Poems
going back to some
old poems written
years ago, i change
some words,
finding some
ways to make them
rhyme and taking in
another breathing
changing fonts
and graphics
and let the new
year pass unnoticed
rededicating them
for someone new
and lovely and caring
recycling, retitling,
reviving, revising
and so the year
may have passed
with a lesser pain.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet's Song
I HID in the world and sang,
And I sang so loud and long
That all the ages rang
With the music of my song.
I sang of the earth and sky,
5
I sang of the whispering seas,
I sang of the mountains high,
And I sang of the flowers and trees;
I sang of the early spring,
I sang of the dawning day,
10
I sang, for I had to sing
As the young lambs have to play;
Till heaven and earth were ringing,
And all the people heard,
And they said, "We love his singing,
15
For his song is the song of the bird."
poem by Frederick George Scott
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Tendulkar's 100th Ton
My father gave a chocolate
when I walked hundred steps
In eighth standard, in maths
I got hundred out of hundred.
The hundred meant me more
When I watched Tendulkar,
hitting his hundredth century
after previous, waiting almost a year.
Delighted every spectator
watching the great cricketer,
either in the ground or television
hitting historic hundredth ton.
Since last ton hit in March last
waited eagerly every fan and sportsman
March 16 of twelve was set
to witness that great moment.
Every one was waiting fully excited
date would go down in history of cricket
Tendulkar would score hundredth hundred
setting the milestone of achievement
(C) S D Tiwari
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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