Sonnet 138: When my love swears that she is made of truth
When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearnèd in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue;
On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love, loves not to have years told.
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flattered be.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Of human bondage
When my love and I mutually swear that we both are made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she is fickle; full of frauds and dry lies,
Making me wondering if she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearnèd in the ways of the vast world's false cunning subtleties.
Thus lying to each other, I cannot tell if she thinks me young,
Although in her mind she knows my days are past their best,
Being an occasional adulterous myself, I credit her false-speaking tongue;
On both sides hypocrisy thrives and thus is simple truth suppressed.
But wherefore I can never say or guess when and if she is unjust?
Consuming fresh young flesh wherefore say not I that I am old?
The thrusting thought that love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love, loves not to have years told.
Therefore I do bed her, and she does bed me,
And in our faults by lies and by false evasive excuses we flattered be.
Beware when being seduced by sweet fresh younger nymph's kind
Love becomes a monster that plays havoc with your mind
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Sonnet 138
When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
Unskilful in the world's false forgeries.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although I know my years be past the best,
I smiling credit her false-speaking tongue,
Outfacing faults in love with love's ill rest.
But wherefore says my love that she is young?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O Love's best habit is a flattering tongue,
And Age, in love, loves not to have years told.
Therefore I'll lie with Love, and love with me,
Since that our faults in love thus smother'd be.
poem by William Shakespeare from The Passionate Pilgrim (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Just One More Sonnet 138!
Substitute a modern version of Sonnet 138?
We get enough false-speaking tongues posted
where simple truth is suppressed
and vitriolic bile is expressed!
His days may be past the best,
if truth were told,
but the baritone sings on
oblivious and proud!
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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False Truth
False truth
Just like a word that says
Love will always find the way
No matter how hard
No matter how much
I want to hear what i want
I want to see what i like
As simple as that
Yet it's impossible to be done
Because it's just a false truth
That would never be found
A personal satisfaction within
Called ''Happiness''
Let it slide
Begone for tomorrow
Because when it's the time
You'll learn and see
That truth is just a truth
A fact that simply
Without false
And without doubt…
poem by Alva Cross
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The Lying Truth
How do we know we are speaking the truth.
Because we got it from a 'reliable' source,
And who told you it was a 'reliable' source.
Ha, Is there any thing that is really called the truth.
For, every 'truth' told in this twisted and sinister world,
A lie is invented, concocted, told.
And when a question is asked, and the truth is required,
And if told, many events, considered dire,
Happen in response,
A white lie is told.
But the whitest lie, considered the truthful lie,
Thought up by those considered wise and selfless,
Is really the darkest, blackest, most deceiving lies of all.
Over time stories, true stories, turn to myths, myths to legends.
so why not lies, white lies too.
Centuries, years, maybe even weeks and days,
Turns the most deceiving and evil lies into the 'truth'.
So I come back to my original question,
But don't misconstrue my words,
For I dear not defy the truth,
The truth, so rare, that passes us unnoticed, unseen, undetected,
The rare truth that exists in this dark, sinister world.
So yes,
How do we know we are speaking the truth.
The truth, the truth, the lie.
poem by Michael Devenish
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The 'Truth
How do we know we are speaking the truth.
Because we got it from a 'reliable' source,
And who told you it was a 'reliable' source.
Ha, Is there any thing that is really called the truth.
For, every 'truth' told in this twisted and sinister world,
A lie is invented, concocted, told.
And when a question is asked, and the truth is required,
And if told, many events, considered dire,
Happen in response,
A white lie is told.
But the whitest lie, considered the truthful lie,
Thought up by those considered wise and selfless,
Is really the darkest, blackest, most deceiving lies of all.
Over time stories, true stories, turn to myths, myths to legends.
so why not lies, white lies too.
Centuries, years, maybe even weeks and days,
Turns the most deceiving and evil lies into the 'truth'.
So I come back to my original question,
But don't misconstrue my words,
For I dear not defy the truth,
The truth, so rare, that passes us unnoticed, unseen, undetected,
The rare truth that exists in this dark, sinister world.
So yes,
How do we know we are speaking the truth.
The truth, the truth, the lie.
poem by Michael Devenish
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You came to me at the autumn of my life
You came to me at the autumn of my life
At the end of the day at the dawn of my dusk
You came to me so suddenly and so swift
to stir the heart to shake the love I knew
You came to me a sweet flower of the field
Love forlorn, furrows of pain in the beauty of your face
anguish in your lengthy sigh
upon your checks the tears long ran dry
To remind me of forms of love I never knew
To challenge to intrigue life calm and satiate
Although I knew my years were past best
I smiled at your false speaking tongue
Outfacing faults in love with love fickle rest
But whenever you claim of true youth in your veins
Whenever say not I that I am old?
Remind you of love best characters of strength and sooth
And age in love? You mock
Loves not the years to be told
Hush to that false talk I listen no more
Nor shall I grieve for the betrayal in love done
Roses have thorns and fresh fountains mud
Cloud and eclipses stain both moon and sun
And the loathsome canker in the sweetest bud dwell
All mankind makes faults which they never tell
I shall not wear pretentious cloths not of my measure
To authorize your trespass with a moral compare
To excuse sins more than what they are
Is a sin itself
But against your sensual fault I try to bring sense
Your adverse playful nature is your advocator
The love we cherish and nourish at our youth
Will stay with us at old age to sooth
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Tell thee truth, sweet; no
TELL thee truth, sweet; no.
Truth is cross and sad and cold:
Lies are pitiful and kind,
Honey-soft as Love's own tongue:
Let me, love, lie so.
Lies are like a summer wind,
Wooing flower-buds to unfold
Lies will last while men are young.
Tell thee truth, love; no.
Let me, sweet, lie so.
Lies are Hope's light ministers,
Footless birds upon the wing:
Truth's a name for plodding care:
Tell thee truth, sweet; no.
Truth's the east wind on the Spring—
'Tis the wind, not Spring-time, errs.
Lies will last while maids are fair.
Let me lie, love, so.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
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Love's Logic [Couplet Sonnet]
The more ways I find to express my love,
The more I love you, and the better for love,
And more: What more than seek such ways to it;
Expressing love (and therefore to do it) .
And if my love should make me false I would,
For better no false-love than mere falsehood.
How then is love (which others call) more proved
Than mine is? And not merely false-love's truth?
Where love's logic meets between false or not
No arguments have heard but have forgot
That love is truth - and none is love more false
Than proof; So this I swear on life and pulse:
That infinite love's true call expresses
Love is something more than proof professes.
-September 20 2005
poem by David Zvekic
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The Mourners
LOW she lies, who blest our eyes
Through many a sunny day;
She may not smile, she will not rise--
The life hath past away!
Yet there is a world of light beyond,
Where we neither die nor sleep--
She is there, of whom our souls were fond--
Then wherefore do we weep?
The heart is cold, whose thoughts were told
In each glance of her glad bright eye;
And she lies pale, who was so bright,
She scarce seemed made to die.
Yet we know that her soul is happy now,
Where the saints their calm watch keep;
That angels are crowning that fair young brow--
Then wherefore do we weep?
Her laughing voice made all rejoice,
Who caught the happy sound;
There was gladness in her very step,
As it lightly touched the ground.
The echoes of voice and step are gone;
There is silence still and deep:
Yet we know she sings by God's bright throne--
Then wherefore do we weep?
The cheek's pale tinge, the lid's dark fringe;
That lies like a shadow there,
Were beautiful in the eyes of all--
And her glossy golden hair!
But though that lid may never wake
From its dark and dreamless sleep,
She is gone where young hearts do not break--
Then wherefore do we weep?
That world of light with joy is bright,
This is a world of woe:
Shall we grieve that her soul hath taken flight,
Because we dwell below?
We will bury her under the mossy sod,
And one long bright tress we'll keep;
We have only given her back to God--
Ah! wherefore do we weep?
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Sonnet: Give Up Your Lies
How far can lies take you in life on earth?
The more you say, the more you can't avoid;
Nor lies can give a person real mirth;
And lies once said can't become 'null and void'.
Cut off the habit at the earliest,
Lest clouds dense-black of punishment still loom;
'Tis best to learn to be always honest;
Nip off the urge bud-like 'fore it can bloom.
Free is the mind that airs its heart by Truth;
The peace it gives is worth the efforts made;
Oh, learn to speak the Truth right from your youth;
The glory God bestows, can never fade.
The things that lies can win you- are for now;
When Truth is God, why don't men learn to love?
poem by John Celes
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Paradox of Truth
The most subtle lies art the greatest truth
Like the fairy tales of our imaginative youth
Each truth a paradox, a lie does tell
A truth somewhere in mythical spell
When one lies, truth still speaks
For in everything doth truth seek
To express itself to hearts to behold
The truth of life in every lie told
Told in such eloquent song
There is truth in something especially wrong
Rhetoric, myths, ignorance and lies
Truth in all, every truth belies.
If thou don't believe it is certainly true
For to believe is true to me and you
And in this poem if you believe no truth
Let this poem be truth's own proof….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Were The Truth
(tim james/steven mcclintock)
Its the age of the lie
A time when most relations cant relate
Everybodys building walls
To help their heart to face another break
But you and I found another way
When youre here with me
Its so plain to see
There are no cares that be
We cannot undo
In these hardest times
In this age of lies
In this heart of mine
I know were the truth
I know were the truth
In a world of doubt
I know its how much you believe in me
A simple kind of trust
From the heart the way that trust should be
A love like yours is easy to believe
When youre here with me
Its so plain to see
There are no cares that be
We cannot undo
In these hardest times
In this age of lies
In this heart of mine
I know were the truth
I know were the truth
Love is why I first believed in you
Love is still the reason that remains
When youre here with me
Its so plain to see
There are no cares that be
We cannot undo
In these hardest times
In this age of lies
In this heart of mine
I know were the truth
I know were the truth
song performed by by Tiffany
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blames The Mother
She blames all of her troubles on her mum
She never blames her faults on herself,
The reason she got married so many times
Its because she did like her mum, why else.
The reason she drinks is her mum did too
And that's the reason she goes to the pubs,
And the reason she has had so many men
Its because her mum, never showed her love.
She does not know how to make a commitment
And that too, she blames on her mother,
And the reason she swears and that she also curses
It is because of her mum, and no other.
She has her daughters to hate their own fathers
Just like her mother had her hated her on dad,
And then years later when she found out the truth
She agreed with him, that her mum was mad.
She lies and cheats and she also steals
Just as she said her mother did the same,
And now she says she sees not a problem in it
And that too, her mum is to blame.
She uses the people that she does meet
To get from then all with her dishonesty and lies,
And when they do not agree with her type of living
She abandons them, and never for them does she cry.
She thinks of herself first only in this life
She doesn't care who she has used or even hurt,
As that's because of the teaching of her own mother
That she must and will always put herself first.
She lives in her own little world which is true
Probably the same world where her mom does live,
Where no one has had it as bad or as hard as her
And so she takes and takes and never gives.
So now I think in years or even days from now
When her daughter are talking to each other,
About the sins and and evils they have done or will do
And I wander if they too, will they blame it on their mother.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Truth and Lies
Is the truth beyond our lies,
Say what you want,
Watch what you say,
For our hidden lies, we must pay.
In the darkness of the night,
In the brightness of the day,
Truth and lies have gone astray.
Does your truth contain a lie?
Black as coal, the midnight sky.
Truth will shine,
It is the light,
To tell the truth,
With a soul so bright.
Is truth defined just in the mind?
In the Prince of Darkenss lies defined.
Love of the truth will scorn the Devil,
Our truth must stay at our highest level.
Of these shortcomings,
Are we aware?
That we speak of lies so unaware!
Every lie turns the truth aside,
Our secret truths, we sometimes hide.
poem by Philip Lore
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The Truth It Can Be Hurtful
I may not like what you say of me but if of me you speak the truth
Though the truth it can be hurtful if it is not spoken without ruth
The truth cannot defame me if of me the truth you say
And if the truth taints my character well that too is okay.
But if you tell lies about someone and know them to be lies
Then the dislike I'd feel for one like you i barely could disguise
For lies can be defamatory when used in such a way
Any respect to a malicious liar i would find hard to pay.
The truth it can be hurtful as we all ought to know
But out of the truth it can be said respect for one does grow
And though you may not like what's said about you at least what's said is true
And to the one who speaks the truth credit is always due.
The truth it can be hurtful but the truth is never wrong
And those who cannot accept the truth mentally cannot grow strong
And though for some the truth is poison they'd rather live a lie
The truth lives on forever and the truth will never die.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Cold Day Hot Poetry
Cold day hot poetry
Truth is here
With false sorry.
Poetry is true
World is false
This is not my story.
Words are not under my control
It is word I
That is to see.
I care not what you say
I care only truth and truth
And truth that only I say.
Excuse me if I am not able to touch
But I have got a lot of love
To you all living and non-living
I Love you and I seek your blessing.
I am hopeful and this world is wonderful
My wife is beautiful and my work is successful
You are my grand master and life is nectar-full.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Honest Truth
the truth is i love you
the truth is i always dream of you at night
the truth is i do my best to hide it from you
the truth is the future is blank without you
the truth is i am hurting
the truth is i am scared
i am scared how i pretend in front of everyone
the truth is a cannot tell anyone of this
the truth is i cannot even tell you
then it starts to hurt even more
the truth is i'm scared to tell you
the truth is you might be scared to break her heart
the truth is i'm scared you might love me too
the truth is i am not happy
the truth is i don't feel the love i want
the truth is i want to be loved by you only
the truth is you're too blind to see
the truth is you might not believe me if i told you
the truth is you might be scared of it
the truth is the emotional distance kills me
the truth is being close to you makes it worse
should i tell you this truth?
would you believe this truth?
the truth....the truth....the truth...
i'm the only one who knows the
and this truth hurts
because the truth is i love you
the truth is i love you
the truth is i still love you....
03 August 2010
poem by Neo Patricia Monamodi
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Truthful Lies
The truth in that
Is that the truth will never be truth.
To them,
It's all lies, because they lie.
The truth is masked,
It bears no light.
It is carried a thousand miles,
Tossed into stones,
Mixed in with pride.
Stamped on postcards.
It is shuffled amongst the lies,
It is marked as spam.
The breaths that carry,
The minds that corrupt it,
They bear no guilt.
The truth is never forgotten.
No matter how fictitious it's made.
Through time it is mended,
Sometimes changed back into the truth itself.
It is rejected.
It is simply the truth they want to see.
A lie is the truth,
Because it is made to be what they need.
poem by Erick Flores
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Accepting To Protect False Beliefs
The telling of lies told and sold,
To deny in a hiding of one's insecurities...
Does not prevent,
An increasing mental instability...
As witnessed by those,
Not only experiencing buyer's remorse...
But shows the ones who have lied,
Responsible for much that has gone...
Misunderstood most of their lives,
While fighting against denials.
And today...
There is no way of escaping,
With a possibility on either side of truth...
To correct relationships destroyed to redo,
By accepting to protect false beliefs as done.
Or can fix to mend anyone's heart broken,
Of those victimized who have forgiven.
Since they will never be able to erase in time,
From their minds...
The effects of what has happened to them.
Accepting to protect,
False beliefs...
Doesn't shadow,
A truth that's known.
Accepting to protect,
False beliefs...
Doesn't shadow,
A truth that's known.
Accepting to protect,
False beliefs...
Doesn't shadow,
A truth that's known...
To keep those from being aware,
With a clearing of polluted air.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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