An Epitaph
Here lies one who never drew
Blood himself, yet many slew;
Gave the gun its aim, and figure
Made in field, yet ne'er pulled trigger.
Armed men have gladly made
Him their guide, and him obeyed;
At his signified desire,
Would advance, present, and fire.
Stout he was, and large of limb,
Scores have fled at sight of him;
And to all his fame he rose
Only following his nose.
Neptune was he called; not he
Who controls the boisterous sea.
But of happier command,
Neptune of the furrowed land;
And, your wonder vain to shorten,
Pointer to Sir John Throckmorton.
poem by William Cowper
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Related quotes
Neptune
Nobody seems to dream of visits on Neptune.
With a giving of its wonder and suspense.
There is nobody that seems to speak with curiosity,
Of how life lived on Neptune would be.
What is it about it that escapes wishes to adventure it?
Does it not appear to be intimate?
What is it about it.
Is it too far out there for imaginary visits?
What is it about it.
Is it too much like Uranus?
And Saturn and Jupiter have captured its magic.
What is it about it.
Although depicted by the Romans as god of the seas...
Neptune is rarely mentioned or romanticized,
As a place to be!
What is it about it that escapes our fantasies.
Eight from the Sun to see in orbit.
But no one mentions Neptune for that odyssey.
What is it about it.
So vast it is...
Sixty Earths could sit within its grasp.
But no one wishes a visit with it.
Nobody seems to dream of visits on Neptune.
With a giving of its wonder and suspense.
There is nobody that seems to speak with curiosity,
Of how life lived on Neptune would be.
What is it about it that escapes wishes to adventure it?
Does it not appear to be intimate?
What is it about it.
Is it too far out there for imaginary visits?
What is it about it.
Is it too much like Uranus?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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First The Lightning Then The Rain
First comes her lightning..
then her rain
first her humor
with kindness in its train
First the baptism by fire
and then water's laving
First Uranus
.. the way for Neptune paving
She does not in Uranian ways
laugh in her sacred church
.. but issues lightning bolts
of compassion from the pulpit
Uranus must twice revolve
to equal Neptune's once resolve
*************
(to Dr Ginnie Bourquardez, founder
of International Network for Religion
and Animals. She is with God now)
INRA combined vegetarian and animal
rights teachers in all religions
(Uranus has an orbit of 84 years
.. Neptune an octave higher
has an orbit of 168 years)
poem by Saiom Shriver
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A Hymn in Praise of Neptune
OF Neptune's empire let us sing,
At whose command the waves obey;
To whom the rivers tribute pay,
Down the high mountains sliding:
To whom the scaly nation yields
Homage for the crystal fields
Wherein they dwell:
And every sea-dog pays a gem
Yearly out of his wat'ry cell
To deck great Neptune's diadem.
The Tritons dancing in a ring
Before his palace gates do make
The water with their echoes quake,
Like the great thunder sounding:
The sea-nymphs chant their accents shrill,
And the sirens, taught to kill
With their sweet voice,
Make ev'ry echoing rock reply
Unto their gentle murmuring noise
The praise of Neptune's empery.
poem by Thomas Campion
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Epitaph of William Walworth
Hereunder lyth a man of Fame,
William Walworth callyd by name;
Fishmonger he was in lyfftime here,
And twise Lord Maior, as in books appere;
Who, with courage stout and manly myght,
Slew Jack Straw in Kyng Richard's sight.
For which act done, and trew entent,
The Kyng made him knyght incontinent;
And gave him armes, as here you see,
To declare his fact and chivaldrie.
He left this lyff the yere of our God
Thirteen hundred fourscore and three odd.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Delirium ' A World Unseen
Neptune was my father,
And Venus, my caress,
Really, do not bother,
To figure out this mess.
At the ocean, seashore,
They made some great arrests,
All the Thinking People,
Got alcoholic tests.
Loons and goons were dancing,
High up on the hill,
Never knowing, really
Why the World stood still.
Then there were the Speeches,
Endlessly Insane,
Telling everybody,
'Thinking' was in vain,
And next time they tried it,
They'd get Purple Rain,
In an upside-down cell,
At the County jail.
poem by Sandra Feldman
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Magic
YE elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves,
And ye that on the sands with printless foot
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him
When he comes back, you demi-puppets that
By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime
Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid,
Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm'd
The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,
And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault
Set roaring water; to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak
With hiw own bolt; the strong-bas'd promontory
Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck'd up
The pine and cedar; graves at my command
Have wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let 'em forth
By my so potent art.
Weary body
She gave him her dreams,
he made them nightmares.
She gave him her love, he
turned it to hatred, she gave
him her warm kisses, he
turned them into regrets.
She gave him her enthusiasm;
he turned it into distress.
She gave him her sweet hymns;
he turned them into howling wolves.
She gave him the flavor of her
craves, he turned it into bitterness,
She gave him the nectars of her
fruits, he made them go bad.
She gave him her time, he took
it for granted. All she gave, became
in vain; a weary body and broken
lies, are the only truth she has to
confront. Her heart was still alive
she gave it to him, he took it in
warm blood, and let it bleed to death.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Pinnochio
Geppetto took a block of wood
With knife in hand he tried
To carve his path to fatherhood
With a son wood could provide
He carved and carved all day and night
Working beaver-ishly
He soon would see the end in sight
Carving fever-ishly
He was rewarded with a son
Who was, of course, just wood
But with this son, he felt as one
It made him feel so good
To give him life he pulled some strings
And gave his son a name
Pinnochio would Geppetto bring
Some joy and even fame
But somehow all awry went things
Pinnochio found one day
He didn't seem to need those strings
They just got in his way
This new found freedom brought a cloud
Life wasn't quite so rosy
When spouting lies, he was endowed
With a nose that was too nosey
So, in the end, this wooden boy
Stopped lying through his nose
And once again became a toy
Wearing strings and puppet clothes
poem by Stanley Cooper
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Flyleaf-Cassie(lyrics)
Flyleaf_Cassie(lyrics)
The question asked in order
To save her life or take it
The answer no to avoid death
The answer yes would make it
Make it
Do you believe in God?
Written on a bullet
Say yes to pull the trigger
Do you believe in God?
Written on a bullet
And Cassie pulled the trigger
All heads are bowed in silence
To remember her last sentence
She answered him knowing what would happen
Her last words still hanging in the air
In the air
Do you believe in God?
Written on a bullet
Say yes to pull the trigger
Do you believe in God?
Written on a bullet
And Rachael pulled the trigger
How many will die
I will die
I, I will say yes
And Cassie pulled the trigger
Do you believe in God?
Written on the bullet
And Rachael pulled the trigger
Do you believe in God?
Written on the bullet
And Cassie pulled the trigger
Do you believe in God?
Do you believe in God?
Do you believe in God?
And I will pull the trigger
poem by Alexandria Rios
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A Rose-bud advises man…
I asked a rose-bud, ‘who gave you your beauty? ’
And it replied, ‘my mother’s sap gave me! ’
I asked again, ‘who gave your mother plant, its sap? ’
It said, ‘the soil and rain by roots, the sun through leaves! ’
I asked the rose-bud, ‘who gave the soil, sun and rain such abilities? ’
It replied, ‘the One who made all things, and you and me! ’
And now the rose-bud asked me, ‘But why do you ask such questions?
Are you not made beautiful too by the same One,
Who made me, the moon, sky, soil and sun?
And yet, like you, we cannot walk or run! ’
It continued, ‘we plants feel sad we cannot move like how you do! ’
‘We buds grow bigger by each dawn;
The Maker feels so happy when we’re born,
And smiles on seeing us each morn,
Turning ecstatic, when we blossom on,
The landscape to perfume and to adorn –
By morrow, most of us are almost gone! ’
I asked the rose-bud, ‘are the dew-drops then because you cry? ’
And it replied, ‘they are the tears of joy and sadness of God on high,
Who knows we are born to sooner die.’
But tell me man, such questions, you ask, ‘why? ’
The rose-bud went on:
‘God gave you man, woman, a long life-span;
And do many things, you surely can! ’
God made you far more beautiful!
Be satisfied and be dutiful;
God is our Master One, most wonderful!
Praise Him, thank Him for all His gifts to you, bountiful! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-2-2010
poem by John Celes
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Burial of Sarah
He stood before the sons of Heth,
And bowed his sorrowing head;
"I've come," he said, "to buy a place
Where I may lay my dead.
"I am a stranger in your land,
My home has lost its light;
Grant me a place where I may lay
My dead away from sight."
Then tenderly the sons of Heth
Gazed on the mourner's face,
And said, "Oh, Prince, amid our dead,
Choose thou her resting-place.
"The sepulchres of those we love,
We place at thy command;
Against the plea thy grief hath made
We close not heart nor hand."
The patriarch rose and bowed his head,
And said, "One place I crave;
'Tis at the end of Ephron's field,
And called Machpelah's cave.
"Entreat him that he sell to me
For her last sleep that cave;
I do not ask for her I loved
The freedom of a grave."
The son of Zohar answered him,
"Hearken, my lord, to me;
Before our sons, the field and cave
I freely give to thee."
"I will not take it as a gift,"
The grand old man then said;
"I pray thee let me buy the place
Where I may lay my dead."
And with the promise in his heart,
His seed should own that land,
He gave the shekels for the field
He took from Ephron's hand.
And saw afar the glorious day
His chosen seed should tread,
The soil where he in sorrow lay
His loved and cherished dead.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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The Immortals
I killed them, but they would not die.
Yea! all the day and all the night
For them I could not rest or sleep,
Nor guard from them nor hide in flight.
Then in my agony I turned
And made my hands red in their gore.
In vain - for faster than I slew
They rose more cruel than before.
I killed and killed with slaughter mad;
I killed till all my strength was gone.
And still they rose to torture me,
For Devils only die in fun.
I used to think the Devil hid
In women’s smiles and wine’s carouse.
I called him Satan, Balzebub.
But now I call him, dirty louse.
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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To Homer
Standing aloof in giant ignorance,
Of thee I hear and of the Cyclades,
As one who sits ashore and longs perchance
To visit dolphin-coral in deep seas.
So thou wast blind;--but then the veil was rent,
For Jove uncurtain'd Heaven to let thee live,
And Neptune made for thee a spumy tent,
And Pan made sing for thee his forest-hive;
Aye on the shores of darkness there is light,
And precipices show untrodden green,
There is a budding morrow in midnight,
There is a triple sight in blindness keen;
Such seeing hadst thou, as it once befel
To Dian, Queen of Earth, and Heaven, and Hell.
poem by John Keats
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Sonnet To Homer
Standing aloof in giant ignorance,
Of thee I hear and of the Cyclades,
As one who sits ashore and longs perchance
To visit dolphin-coral in deep seas.
So thou wast blind; -- but then the veil was rent,
For Jove uncurtain'd Heaven to let thee live,
And Neptune made for thee a spumy tent,
And Pan made sing for thee his forest-hive;
Aye on the shores of darkness there is light,
And precipices show untrodden green
There is a budding morrow in the midnight,
There is a triple sight in blindness keen;
Such seeing hadst thou, as it once befel
To Dian, Queen of Earth, and Heaven, and Hell.
poem by John Keats
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Rain On A Scarecrow
Scarecrow on a wooden cross Blackbird in the barn
Four hundred empty acres that used to be my farm
I grew up like my daddy did My grandpa cleared this land
When I was five I walked the fence while grandpa held my hand
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
This land fed a nation This land made me proud
And Son I'm just sorry there's no legacy for you now
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
The crops we grew last summer weren't enough to pay the loans
Couldn't buy the seed to plant this spring and the Farmers Bank foreclosed
Called my old friend Schepman up to auction off the land
He said John it's just my job and I hope you understand
Hey calling it your job ol' hoss sure don't make it right
But if you want me to I'll say a prayer for your soul tonight
And grandma's on the front porch swing with a Bible in her hand
Sometimes I hear her singing "Take me to the Promised Land"
When you take away a man's dignity he can't work his fields and cows
There'll be blood on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Blood on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Well there's ninety-seven crosses planted in the courthouse yard
Ninety-seven families who lost ninety-seven farms
I think about my grandpa and my neighbors and my name
And some nights I feel like dyin' Like that scarecrow in the rain
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
This land fed a nation This land made me proud
And Son I'm just sorry they're just memories for you now
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
This land fed a nation This land made me proud
And Son I'm just sorry they're just memories for you now
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Or Now
AN APPEAL
LISTEN, young heroes! your country is calling!
Time strikes the hour for the brave and the true!
Now, while the foremost are fighting and falling,
Fill up the ranks that have opened for you!
You whom the fathers made free and defended,
Stain not the scroll that emblazons their fame
You whose fair heritage spotless descended,
Leave not your children a birthright of shame!
Stay not for questions while Freedom stands gasping!
Wait not till Honor lies wrapped in his pall!
Brief the lips' meeting be, swift the hands' clasping,--
'Off for the wars!' is enough for them all!
Break from the arms that would fondly caress you!
Hark! 't is the bugle-blast, sabres are drawn!
Mothers shall pray for you, fathers shall bless you,
Maidens shall weep for you when you are gone!
Never or now! cries the blood of a nation,
Poured on the turf where the red rose should bloom;
Now is the day and the hour of salvation,--
Never or now! peals the trumpet of doom!
Never or now! roars the hoarse-throated cannon
Through the black canopy blotting the skies;
Never or now! flaps the shell-blasted pennon
O'er the deep ooze where the Cumberland lies!
From the foul dens where our brothers are dying,
Aliens and foes in the land of their birth,--
From the rank swamps where our martyrs are lying
Pleading in vain for a handful of earth,--
From the hot plains where they perish outnumbered,
Furrowed and ridged by the battle-field's plough,
Comes the loud summons; too long you have slumbered,
Hear the last Angel-trump,--Never or Now!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Sonnet- God gave man superior senses
God made each man, with eyes to see clearly,
And ears to hear the sounds that Nature made,
And nose to smell the scent of things surely,
And gave him skin to touch the Earth he laid.
Man made his own gadgets and tools to tell,
Details of environs that him surround;
Nevertheless, the things he made all fell,
Quite off the mark his special senses found.
And to his surprise, man had realised,
God given Special Senses simply great;
And all the things he'd made were mammoth-sized,
Ashamed and yet, he accepts not his state.
Whatever, God our Master gave to Man,
No man surpass'd; at least equal it can.
poem by John Celes
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The Horse And The Olive: Or, War And Peace
With Moral Tale let Ancient Wisdom move,
Which thus I sing to make the Moderns wise:
Strong Neptune once with sage Minerva strove,
And rising Athens was the Victor's Prize.
By Neptune, Plutus (Guardian Pow'r of Gain),
By Great Minerva, Bright Apollo stood:
But Jove superior bad the Side obtain
Which best contriv'd to do the Nation Good.
Then Neptune striking, from the parted Ground
The Warlike Horse came pawing on the Plain,
And as it toss'd its Mane, and pranc'd around,
By this, he cries, I'll make the People Reign.
The Goddess smiling gently bow'd the Spear,
And, rather thus they shall be bless'd, she said;
Then upwards shooting in the Vernal Air
With loaded Boughs the fruitful Olive spread.
Jove saw what Gifts the Rival Pow'rs design'd,
And took th' impartial Scales, resolv'd to show,
If greater Bliss in Warlike Pomp we find,
Or in the Calm which Peaceful Times bestow.
On Neptune's part he plac'd Victorious Days,
Gay Trophies won, and Fame extending wide:
But Plenty, Safety, Science, Arts, and Ease,
Minerva's Scale with greater Weight supply'd.
Fierce War devours whom gentle Peace wou'd save,
Sweet Peace restores what angry War destroys,
War made for Peace with that rewards the Brave,
While Peace its Pleasures from it self enjoys.
Hence vanquish'd Neptune to the Sea withdrew,
Hence wise Minerva rul'd Athenian Lands,
Her Athens hence in Arts and Honour grew,
And still her Olives deck pacifick Hands.
From Fables thus disclos'd, a Monarch's Mind
May form just Rules to chuse the Truly-Great:
And Subjects weary'd with Distresses find
Whose kind Endeavours most befriend the State.
Ev'n Britain here may learn to place her Love,
If Cities won her Kingdoms Wealth have cost,
If Anna's Thoughts the patriot-souls approve
Whose Cares restore that Wealth the Wars had lost.
But if we ask the Moral to disclose
Whom best europa's Patroness it calls,
Great ANNA's Title no Exception knows,
And unapply'd in this the Fable falls.
With Her no Neptune or Minerva vyes;
Whene'er she pleas'd her Troops to Conquest flew,
Whene'er she pleases Peaceful Times arise:
She gave the Horse, and gives the Olive too.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Failure
THE BOY went out from the ranges grim,
And the breath of the mountains went with him;
With a song in his heart and a smile on his face,
And a light in his eyes for a foremost place:
And the good green earth, and the salt sea spray,
And the soft blue skies, they were his that day;
And, like Eden, ringed with a golden fire—
Afar rose the Land of His Heart’s Desire.
The boy went down to the city’s strife,
And his face was lost in the surge of life;
But a Power that he did not understand
Had nerved his brain and his fighting hand.
And he strove and failed, and he rose and won—
And he failed again ere the fight was done;
But he battled on when the days were dire
To win to the Land of His Heart’s Desire.
And there, in the heart of the stress and din,
’Mid want and labour and wealth and sin,
The strong man struggled with shining eyes,
And forced a passage, and grasped the prize.
And he cried to the Power who had lent the fire:
“Lo! Fame is the Land of My Heart’s Desire!
Give the cup to me with a beaded brim.”
And the Power that he knew not gave it him.
But the air is keen on the Cliffs of Fame,
And the shafts that fly have a deadly aim!
With a foothold scarce, and a sleepless dread
For the gulfs below and the heights o’erhead,
He cried to the Power who had steeled his hand:
“I am outcast yet from my Fairyland!
For Fame is a land where no strength may tire,
But Love is the Land of My Heart’s Desire!”
Then there came to the man all his dream of Love,
With the brow of snow and the eyes of a dove,
With the glint of the sun on her wavy hair,
And her soul as pure as her face was fair.
Like a living lily to him she came,
Till his eyes were wet and his soul was flame,
And she called to him, with an outstretched hand,
And they entered into the Promised Land.
But there came a day when he asked his soul,
“Is this the land, and is this the goal?”
In his heart there lay what his lips denied—
The pang of a hunger unsatisfied.
“For Fame,” he said, “and for Love I wrought;
They are not the things that I should have sought:
’Tis to boundless power that my dreams aspire—
And Wealth is the Land of My Heart’s Desire!”
Then the Power that he did not understand
Gave him ships and houses and gold and land,
And the man’s power grew with each passing year;
But his thoughts were vexed with a sleepless fear,
And his hair grew gray with the iron strain
Of the dread of loss and the lust of gain,
And he bowed his head on his hands and said.
“All things are mine, but my heart is dead!”
And he thought of the boy from the ranges grim
With the breath of the mountains over him,
With a song in his heart and a smile on his face,
And a light in his eyes for a foremost place,
And the good green earth and the salt sea spray,
And the soft blue skies that were his that day,
When, like Eden, ringed with a golden fire,
Afar rose the Land of His Heart’s Desire.
Then clear on his startled ear there fell
A voice like the sound of a silver bell:
“To each is the work that he best can do,
But you turned from the work when it called to you.
And you sought instead for the vulgar praise,
For the lips of love, and for prosperous days.
And with all that the world can give you here,
You have lost the thing that you hold most dear.
For who hears the word that the Gods inspire—
In his work finds the Land of His Heart’s Desire.”
poem by George Essex Evans
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Show Me How To Live
In with the early dawn
Moving right along
I couldnt buy an eye of sleep
And in the aching night
Under satellite
I was not recieved
With the stolen parts
A telephone in my heart
Someone get me a priest
To put my mind to bed
This ringing in my head
Is this a cure is or is this a disease
Hey hey I said
Near as I can figure
You gave me life now
Show me how to live
Hey hey I said
Near as I can figure
You gave me life now
Show me how to live
In the afterbirth
On the quiet earth
Let this things remind me
You thought you made amend
You better think again
Before my row defines you
Hey hey I said
Near as I an figure
You gave me life now show me how to live
Hey hey I said
Near as I can figure
You gave me life now
Show me how to live
And in your waiting hands
I will land
And roll out of my skin
And in your final hours I will stand
Ready to begin
Ready to begin
Ready to begin
Ready to begin
Hey hey I said
Near as I can figure
You gave me life now
Show me how to live
Hey hey I said
Near as I can figure
You gave me life now
Show me how to live
Show me how to live
Show me how to live
Show me how to live
Show me how to live
song performed by by Audioslave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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