The Silkworm
The beams of April, ere it goes,
A worm, scarce visible, disclose;
All winter long content to dwell
The tenant of his native shell.
The same prolific season gives
The sustenance by which he lives,
The mulberry leaf, a simple store,
That serves him—till he needs no more!
For, his dimensions once complete,
Thenceforth none ever sees him eat;
Though till his growing time be past
Scarce ever is he seen to fast.
That hour arrived, his work begins.
He spins and weaves, and weaves and spins;
Till circle upon circle, wound
Careless around him and around,
Conceals him with a veil, though slight,
Impervious to the keenest sight.
Thus self-enclosed, as in a cask,
At length he finishes his task;
And, though a worm when he was lost,
Or caterpillar at the most,
When next we see him, wings he wears,
And in papilio pomp appears;
Becomes oviparous; supplies
With future worms and future flies
The next ensuing year—and dies!
Well were it for the world, if all
Who creep about this earthly ball,
Though shorter-lived than most he be,
Were useful in their kind as he.
poem by William Cowper
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Related quotes
Universal
‘Universelle:
She is youth, she has no age.
She sees everything, she judges nothing.
She is innocent, she is powerful.
She comes from the past,
She is the future.’
Unrecognized though foreordained,
nought losing yet to all as lost,
innocent, though counting cost,
vast as the Past, as Future chained
eternally to Fate’s fire-frost
rich as we shall be we’ve remained.
Unique and common, in between
night’s sighs, dawn’s longings, scarce serene;
we float here, there, through dreams’ insight.
Although the strings stay out of sight
Chance intertwines lives, sets the scene
which spins round Time’s wheel infinite.
Game gambol gamble plays roulette
with Cause, Effect, would hedge its bet,
but all too often intervenes
the wild card held by Time who’s seen
to pull those strings till all forget,
till all’s forgotten, both ‘what was’, what might have been...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The (f) Rying Woman....
to pry upon his weakness and to discover
some artifacts from his house is her past time
and every hour when there is a break from the
wanton hours and the monotonous menu of the day
she opens the usual window and watch what the
worm is doing inside the terrarium
she records the possibility that this can be a landmark
of history and significant for what others say as a phenomenon
other people's lives matter
and sometimes the worm that looks at her too asks: why?
the worm, and she does not know this, is also prying upon her
her shrinking breasts, her skin that looks like dry tobacco leaf
her life that to the worm has become more of a raisin
stuffed inside a boxed, with a history of having been dried by the sun
the worm is fair though, in its latest description
she is still sweet though neutral in smell, and deserves still to be liked to be eaten someday
p.s. the worm remarks, kids will like her.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Widower
For a season there must be pain--
For a little, little space
I shall lose the sight of her face,
Take back the old life again
While She is at rest in her place.
For a season this pain must endure,
For a little, little while
I shall sigh more often than smile
Till time shall work me a cure,
And the pitiful days beguile.
For that season we must be apart,
For a little length of years,
Till my life's last hour nears,
And, above the beat of my heart,
I hear Her voice in my ears.
But I shall not understand--
Being set on some later love,
Shall not know her for whom I strove,
Till she reach me forth her hand,
Saying, "Who but I have the right?"
And out of a troubled night
Shall draw me safe to the land.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Spider's Web
The spider weaves a web so it can catch its prey
wherever it is convenient to take its hunger away.
An intricate net so finely built yet strong to withhold
all those creatures of nature that get caught in its fold.
The spider knows it will most likely do its job well
and so in the course of the day only time will tell.
It is only when something bigger comes along the way
that the web will break and from its foundations stray.
It’s made to withstand the elements of wind, rain or shine
though it appears in structure to be very delicate and fine.
It never ceases to amaze me with what precision it is made
the work of a skilled artist and product of non-human trade.
It’s made of the same basic material as the silk of the worm
which the spider spins out of its body but is sticky and firm.
The purpose behind the two though has a different motive
being to the both of them uniquely characteristic or native.
I wouldn’t like to be one of those creatures caught in the web
struggling desperately to get away and feeling its own life ebb.
The length and trouble some creatures go to in life to survive
is part of the drama that goes on in nature to keep them alive.
The spider’s web hangs securely moving gently with the breeze
and is fastened onto stationary objects that support it with ease.
Its creator waits patiently at the centre for the right time to come
when the web gives signs that food has arrived again hmm…yum.
If you then happen to see a spider’s web that’s along your way
don’t go and deliberately pull it down as it is a crime I must say.
Unless abandoned or an interference let it catch the spider’s main feed
which is based on its natural instinct of survival and not that of greed.
poem by George Krokos
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Here Comes Tomorrow
Here comes tomorrow, the past is gone
The future has begun, it's goin' on and on
Here comes tomorrow, one step ahead
The future has begun, no time for feeling sad
Magic space, the game we play
Connected by the highway we meet every day
Realise, don't run away
We're livin' in the future all the way
As long as love exists
And miracles are missed
The world will be the same
Coming from no man's land
Where will the future end
It's just another game
Here comes tomorrow, top it till you drop it
No one can stop it, ticking like a bomb
Time is running fast, don't think about the past
Everywhere, the human race, is lost in space
Here comes the future, the past is gone
It's going up and down round and round on and on
Strong upon, till the break of dawn
Forget about sorrow, here comes tomorrow
Ruled by passivity, lost in endless liberty
Every time, every place, lost in space
High-speed machines not only in my dreams
It seems to be reality / reality
What about the face of humanity ?
What about the world insanity ?
Fantasy TV, welcome to the show
Down to number zero, here comes tomorrow
Physical or virtual, emotional or logical
The future, the point of no return
Now is the beginning of a brand-new era
We are close to enter the land of Utopia
Bits and bytes are getting faster and faster
My master leading to an overkill disaster
What about the face of humanity ?
What about the world insanity ?
Fast or slow, you know let it go
Forget about sorrow, here comes tomorrow
song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hoping Of Happy New Year
Hoping of happy New Year
The year has passed
The New Year has arrived
All the pains sadness and angriness has become past
All the happiness, sweetness and love has arrived
All the sickness, Madness and childness has gone
All the matureness, intelligence and hopes has arrived
My all the things are now my past
My all concentration is just focusing on future
New Year has arrived with hope
A hope of goodness in everything
A hope that my country will be in peace
A hope that all problems may come with a simple solution
May my all the relations become more sweet and loveable?
May my all pathetic memories be just past
May my life be quite simple
May my life be full of joy
Past year is a past don’t matter what was it
But the future is unknown and unseen
Don’t know that what will happen
Just hope that everything will be good and ok
So I hope that every hope will not just hope
Hope we can say next year with hope that Happy New Year
poem by Fatima Obaid
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For Mel (villanelle)
The one who should have lived has gone so fast.
The old ones, in their dotage, linger on –
they, with no future, live only in the past.
And we who can but sit, dumb and aghast,
scarcely believe that while the sun still shone
the one who should have lived has gone so fast.
Six decades older, surviving to their last
few days or years, together but alone,
they, with no future, live only in the past.
At least she kept on living to the last,
but should have had a future. She has none.
The one who should have lived has gone so fast,
and they, for whom so many years have passed,
are unaware that one they loved is gone.
They, with no future, live only in the past,
mark time until the final trumpet blast,
and never know the respite they have won.
The one who should have lived has gone so fast.
They, with no future, live only in the past.
poem by Paul Hansford
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Pains and agony with pleasure
Did you endure all pains and agony with pleasure?
Did you ever consider its length for sure?
Did you ever regret that it is His will and wish?
You got to trust him till the life is finished
Were you kept low for future good?
Sometimes you were not afforded food
Was it His blessings to keep you near?
If answer is in 'Yes” you have all the rights to live without fear
He may respond to your undisputed faith
That he may be kind till your death
It is wish of almighty to shower the happiness
You stand fast with strong faith and face
Life is not what you see it from the outset
It will never reveal or make others to let
It will shape as per efforts put in
It may face failure or outright win
No one has judged it for sure
No one can predict the future
It has to be based on tremendous efforts
It may be made easier with good rapport
Shade or no shade, it has to be struggled till the end
You have enough time to regroup, think and mend
The lost time may never be recovered
Yet there is enough of opportunity for new things to be discovered
You may come out with triumph
You may sign it with your thumb
The happiness may run for quite sometime
Yet uncertainty may take over at any time
Live and face as it comes
Laugh it out and always welcome
New leaf is to be opened with passing of each day
The failure may be pushed miles away
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Another Conversa Mi Amiga....
i am proud to say, i do not hide my ignorance and lapses 7: 06 AM
but i always hide my eggs 7: 06 AM
Me
h ehehe 7: 06 AM
for fear that it may get burned 7: 07 AM
Me
but 7: 07 AM
it is because uv got confidence 7: 07 AM
ur ignorance is minimal hehehe 7: 07 AM
compared to us 7: 07 AM
confidence is the flower of ignorance 7: 07 AM
Me
so nasa taas gihapon ka 7: 07 AM
safe up there 7: 07 AM
u can still be naked 7: 08 AM
it is cold up there 7: 08 AM
lonelier 7: 08 AM
because there only a few of me here 7: 08 AM
(har har har) 7: 08 AM
'few of me' 7: 08 AM
Me
t ht's confidence hehehe 7: 08 AM
few og u 7: 08 AM
looking down the cliff and asking the ant 7: 08 AM
Me
of u 7: 08 AM
Hey mr. ant what's breakfast? 7: 08 AM
what is the weather down there? 7: 09 AM
and the ant said 7: 09 AM
You worm, why are you up there? 7: 09 AM
you will die when the sun comes up? 7: 09 AM
Me
h ehehehe 7: 09 AM
wow 7: 09 AM
and i said, how dare you call me worm? 7: 09 AM
i am a caterpillar 7: 10 AM
and the ant said: caterpillar is a worm, idiot! 7: 10 AM
Me
h ahahaha 7: 10 AM
and the caterpillar said: watch out when i become a butterfly 7: 10 AM
i will ride the sun 7: 10 AM
Me
s unog 7: 10 AM
and the ant said: try it mr. butterfly, sting like a bee and be 7: 11 AM
that dead boxer of the world 7: 11 AM
Me
n ice story 7: 11 AM
and the worm said: (yucks, this ants knows many things 7: 11 AM
Me
h ahahah 7: 11 AM
how come does he know about muhamad?) 7: 11 AM
Me
h umble ant 7: 11 AM
and the ant said: hey worm, i can hear you? i have feet with ears 7: 12 AM
Me
b ecause the ant is grounded hehehe 7: 12 AM
she knows and she sees 7: 12 AM
and the worm said: with ears or not, you are still the ant that feed on morsels and dead leaves 7: 12 AM
ant: well, at least i feed myself from honest means 7: 13 AM
worm: i did not say that you are dishonest, and what's honesty got to do with our conversation? 7: 13 AM
Me
h ahaha 7: 13 AM
true 7: 13 AM
ant: (ugma na lang ta maghuman kay magsulat pag balak si alis kweng ka) 7: 14 AM
ha ha 7: 14 AM
nadalahig ka hinoon sa akong ka buang 7: 14 AM
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Life's Too Short To Love This Fast
You say hello, I say goodbye
You go your way and I go mine
There's not much time for you and I these days
We work too hard, we're gone too much
And we're too tired to even touch
So just how long can we go on this way
Oh, life's too short to love this fast
If we don't slow down our hearts won't last
We can't keep up this pace we're on right now
We burn the candle at both ends
The circle turns, we start again
Let's make our future better than our past
Life's too short to love this fast
Let's take some time, let's get away
Let's pack our bags and leave today
Girl, anyplace would be okay right now
Just leave your pager here at home
And I won't carry my cell phone
We need to find some time alone somehow
Yeah, life's too short to love this fast
If we don't slow down our hearts won't last
We can't keep up this pace we're on right now
We burn the candle at both ends
The circle turns, we start again
Let's make our future better than our past
Life's too short to love this fast
--- Instrumental ---
We're spinnin' our wheels
Forgetting how love feels
Let's slow down before it's too late
'Cause life's too short to love this fast
If we don't slow down our hearts won't last
Let's make our future better than our past
Life's too short to love this fast
Love this fast
Life's too short...
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Time Machine Mind!
Human mind, dreams, vision and imagination
Can transport one forward and backward in time.
Mind is the time machine to go to past and future
But time never goes backward but only forward;
Also, time never goes in circle but only straight!
Recollection of past is possible in the present;
Visualization of future is possible in the present;
But one cannot go to the past or future ever now!
Hour glass can show the time like clock of today
But it cannot bring back the past to reality now
Or bring to our vision the future of world now!
Mind is the time machine that can read history;
Mind is the same machine to see the future too;
But time never goes to the past but only to future!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Amorality
when i see another petal of
a rose falling to the ground which
meets it with the silence of
indifference under the moist soil
the worm sleeps in content as
the sun shines again in rage
till noonday as the clouds shift
their positions as the children
begin to fly their kites as their
mothers watch and think of
other coming images as the
world spins and gives us nights
and days: who can ever think that
in all these there can be a possible
classification between sinning and
not sinning?
events now are traveling faster than light
all these neutrinos of change and sparks and
awes and ahs
and sooner the story of disobedience
and apples and snakes
and innocence and guilt shall be erased
from the face of this
fast winged earth flying towards
an unknown destination
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Time
Who knows about the future? Who knows what we'll find?
What good and bad things are in store by chance or design?
What can be done today to alter the future's course?
If truth be known you alone rule effects of its force.
Today at work or play only the present exists.
A wise world has no room for a past-present-future tryst.
Each future hour, joyful or dour, will never arrive.
The future will be the future as long as you're alive
The past is gone forever never to steal today's times,
Unless could-have-been memories commit awful crimes.
So love and live each instant of each and every day.
You have so little time as each moment passes away.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Who Are You?
and the worm
that looks like
a set of thorns
on a glossy leaf
asks the creature
above it with
some wings........................who are you?
and it answered him
i was once in your body
wriggling to be free
asking a lot of questions
to the air and the tree...............i am what you will soon be,
a butterfly...
and the worm does not
believe it greedy as it is
with the sap of the leaves
somehow it feels
something new it is
feeling some wings
growing, some possibilities
lurking inside it.....................................how can this be?
it is the same question
that you have been asking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Now That The Year Is Growing Kind Of Old (Envelope Couplet Sestets)
Now that the year is growing kind of old
when the true story of Jesus we are told,
we are living up to a day of giving
while daily we hear joyful birds singing
as when they did that child once behold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
our Christian faith we do at times uphold
while to others we bring some happiness
like messengers of God we try to bless,
sing happy songs on each friendly threshold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
while some live sheltered in a stronghold
in a world of chaos there is tranquillity,
when in God we find some serenity,
in our own lives we act cheerful and bold,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
Now that the year is growing kind of old
in our lives God’s blessings are manifold,
while merrily bells do jingle and chime,
we tell of loving that goes past all time,
we celebrate Christmas in each household,
now that the year is growing kind of old.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Yesterday
I've trod the links with many a man,
And played him club for club;
'Tis scarce a year since I began
And I am still a dub.
But this I've noticed as we strayed
Along the bunkered way,
No one with me has ever played
As he did yesterday.
It makes no difference what the drive,
Together as we walk,
Till we up to the ball arrive,
I get the same old talk:
"To-day there's something wrong with me,
Just what I cannot say.
Would you believe I got a three
For this hole--yesterday?"
I see them top and slice a shot,
And fail to follow through,
And with their brassies plough the lot,
The very way I do.
To six and seven their figures run,
And then they sadly say:
"I neither dubbed nor foozled one
When I played--yesterday!"
I have no yesterdays to count,
No good work to recall;
Each morning sees hope proudly mount,
Each evening sees it fall.
And in the locker room at night,
When men discuss their play,
I hear them and I wish I might
Have seen them--yesterday.
Oh, dear old yesterday! What store
Of joys for men you hold!
I'm sure there is no day that's more
Remembered or extolled.
I'm off my task myself a bit,
My mind has run astray;
I think, perhaps, I should have writ
These verses--yesterday.
poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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The Growing Season
The seasons work together
To make the world possible
Summer, the sun season
Fall, the leaf season
Winter, the snow season
And spring, the time of beauty
Summer, the yellow season
Fall, the orange season
Winter, the white season
And spring, the time of the rainbow
Summer, the blank season
Fall, the shadow season
Winter, the dying season
And spring, the growing season
The growing season
I Know A Man
I know a man.
Who does everything for everyone and expects nothing return.
Burning away the night sky.
Working till the day he dies.
Their is so much love in his eyes.
Their is never enough time.
A task overwhelming.
Taking over where you left off.
A promise of the selfless.
Memories of your younger days.
As age wears you thin.
You are still not ready give in.
Forever holding on to the towel.
Never willing to let it go.
I know a man.
Who does everything for everyone and expects nothing return.
Burning away the night sky.
Working till the day he dies.
Their is so much love in his eyes.
Their is never enough time.
Mercy of the angels.
Hardiness of a father.
Pushing me to go even farther.
When I need help you are always more then willing.
A priceless soul your building.
Lessons learned, lessons taught.
Somethings just can't be bought.
You never blame me you know its not my fault.
I know a man.
Who does everything for everyone and expects nothing return.
Burning away the night sky.
Working till the day he dies.
Their is so much love in his eyes.
Their is never enough time.
Sickly you become as the clock keeps on ticking right on bye.
But nobody cares.
They still have the same expectations.
And your delivery's take a deviation.
People get pissed cause your not as fast.
You want to pull down your pants and say kiss my white a double s.
But you hold your tongue.
For you know when all is said and done.
They'll have to just deal with you.
They at this point just don't have a clue.
I know a man.
Who does everything for everyone and expects nothing return.
Burning away the night sky.
Working till the day he dies.
Their is so much love in his eyes.
Their is never enough time.
You now have reached the end.
You look into my eyes.
And say I hope I have taught you well my son.
Cause it won't be long.
The reaper coming to take me home.
I'm sorry but its now where I belong.
Don't cry now.
For you must keep moving on.
Listen here boy, this has become our song.
I know a man.
Who does everything for everyone and expects nothing return.
Burning away the night sky.
Working till the day he dies.
Their is so much love in his eyes.
And their is never enough time.
Their is never enough time.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The Wintertime Blues
Anna is wearing dark gown
winters spells holding her down
swear the clocks stopped
hope my ears not blocked
with these winter time blues.
The astral stars run long
I'm writing her love song
reading her taro card sign
unmasking her seductive design
with these winter time blues.
Ocean blue birds gone west
I play blues to confess
how true love never dies
is elusive and often flies
with these winter time blues.
Winter creates heady weight
lovers and others call fate
where ghost of past reside
astral lovers swim the tide
with these winter time blues.
Seasons veil creates unrest
despair is often house guest
while I learn her blues song
singing all the night long
with these winter time blues.
Anna is feeling lost tonight
laying still in cool starlight
waking slowly in full view
while last line spins clue
with these winter time blues.
poem by Wayne Falconer
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Miss You Most
- M. Carey - W. Afanasieff -
The fire is burning
The room's all aglow
Outside the December wind blows
Away in the distance the carolers sing in the snow
Everybody's laughing
The world is celebrating
And everyone's so happy
Except for me tonight
Because I miss you
Most at Christmas time
And I can't get you
Get you off my mind
Every other season comes along
And I'm all right
But then I miss you, most at Christmas time
I gaze out the window
This cold winter's night
At all of the twinkling lights
Alone in the darkness
Remembering when you were mine
Everybody's smiling
The whole world is rejoicing
And everyone's embracing
Except for you and I
Baby I miss you
Most at Christmas time
And I can't get you
Get you off my mind
Every other season comes along
And I'm all right
But then I miss you, most at Christmas time
In the springtime those memories start to fade
With the April rain
Through the summer days
Till autumn's leaves are gone
I get by without you
Till the snow begins to fall
And then I miss you
Most at Christmas time
And I can't get you
Get you off my mind
Every other season comes along
And I'm all right...
But then I miss you, most at Christmas time
song performed by by Mariah Carey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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