On A Dissembler
Could any shewe where Plynyes people dwell
Whose head stands in their breast; who cannot tell
A smoothing lye because their open hart
And lippes are joyn'd so neare, I would depart
As quick as thought, and there forgett the wrongs
Which I have suffer'd by deceitfull tongues.
I should depart where soules departed bee,
Who being freed from cloudy flesh, can see
Each other so immediately, so cleare
That none needs tongue to speak, nor ears to hear.
Were tongues intended to express the soule,
And can wee better doe't with none at all?
Were words first made our meaning to reveale,
And are they usde our meaning to conceale?
The ayre by which wee see, will that turne fogg?
Our breath turne mist? Will that become a clogg
That should unload the mynde? Fall we upon
Another Babell's sub-confusion?
And in the self-same language must wee finde
A diverse faction of the words and minde?
Dull as I am, that hugg'd such emptie ayre,
And never mark't the deede (a phrase more faire,
More trusty and univocall): joyne well
Three or foure actions, we may quickly spell
A hollow hart: if those no light can lend
Read the whole sentence, and observe the end:
I will not wayte so long: the guilded man
On whom I ground my speech, no longer can
Delude my sense; nor can the gracefull arte
Of kind dissembling button upp his hart.
His well-spoke wrongs are such as hurtfull words
Writt in a comely hand; or bloody swords
Sheath'd upp in velvett; if hee draw on mee
My armour proofe is incredulity.
poem by William Strode
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
O My Hart!
O my hart and O my hart!
My hart it is so sore,
Sens I must nedys from my love depart
And know no cunse wherefore.
poem by Henry VIII King of England
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Song On A Sigh
O tell mee, tell, thou god of wynde,
In all thy cavernes canst thou finde
A vapor, fume, a gale or blast
Like to a sigh which love doth cast?
Can any whirlwynde in thy vault
Plough upp earth's breast with like assault?
Goe wynde and blowe thou where thou please,
Yea breathles leave mee to my ease.
If thou be wynde, O then refrayne
From wracking whiles I thus complayne:
If thou be wynde then light thou art,
Yet O! how heavy is my hart!
If thou be wynde then purge thy way,
Lett cares that clogge thy force obey.
Goe wynde and blow thou where thou please,
Yea breathles leave mee to my ease.
Those blasts of sighing raised are
By influence of my bright starre;
Their Æolus from whom they came
Is love that straynes to blow his flame,
The powerfull sway of whose behest
Makes hearth and bellowes of my breast.
Goe wynde and blowe then where thou please,
Yea breathles leave mee to my ease.
Know 'tis a wynde that longs to blowe
Upon my Saint wherere shee goe,
And stealing through her fanne it beares
Soft errands to her lippes and eares,
And then perhapps a passage makes
Downe to her heart when breath shee takes.
Goe wynde and blowe then where thou please,
Yea breathles leave mee to my ease.
Yes, gentle gale, trye that againe,
O doe not passe from mee in vayne,
Goe mingle with her soule divine
Ingendring spiritts like to mine:
Yea take my soule along with thee
To worke a stronger sympathie:
Goe wynde and blowe thou where thou please,
Yea breathles leave mee to my ease.
My soule, before my grosser part,
Thus to her heaven should departe,
And where the body cannott lye
On wings of wynde my soule shall flye:
If not one soule our bodies joyne,
One body shall our soules confine,
Goe wynde and blowe thou where thou please,
Yea breathles leave mee to my ease.
poem by William Strode
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Words Sometimes Take On A Own Meaning
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
and sometimes they are sharp and painful
as if there is much more to words
as if a kind of secret knowledge hides in them
that are sometimes something moving.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
but somehow words can at times miss things
and are sometimes dependent on feelings
as if there is much more to words
when through it all love brings a kind of bonding
and so you and I are attractive to each other.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
and daily a bond develops between us,
while you become more considerable to me,
as if there is much more to words
you constantly live in my thoughts,
while love becomes real through words.
Words sometimes take on a own meaning
as if there is much more to words…
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Unspoken Words
If I were to tell you something
would it please you to know what it would be?
For I do not know how I can say it
without saying it to you.
So please bear with me when I say to you
Words cannot express the message
I want to get across to you.
You are the only person
I would want to say this to.
If only you would let my actions
speak for my words,
then you'll see what meaning
my silent words have for you.
If you feel the same way then you'll know
You don't have to say anything
just let your actions speak for themselves.
poem by George Krokos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
She Is My Home
There is a most wonderful girl who is my sum.
I will tell you now you call Mum.
She has the beauty of the queen of the Nile.
I could not live without the glimpse of her smile.
She is my safe port on stormy days,
She empowers and comforts by her ways.
Her words and actions to others,
Are those of wife and caring mothers.
I smile when I hear her words of song,
I am made aware all is right and little wrong.
Her gentle voice calms a troubled heart,
And causes my worries to depart.
We build places of brick, timber and clay,
These edifices will return to dust some day.
But the true love of a woman with virtue,
She is my home, my strength, an arrow true.
In Commendation Of Musick
When whispering straynes doe softly steale
With creeping passion through the hart,
And when at every touch wee feele
Our pulses beate and beare a part;
When thredds can make
A hartstring shake
Philosophie
Can scarce deny
The soule consists of harmony.
When unto heavenly joy wee feyne
Whatere the soule affecteth most,
Which onely thus wee can explayne
By musick of the winged hoast,
Whose layes wee think
Make starres to winke,
Philosophie
Can scarce deny
Our soules consist of harmony.
O lull mee, lull mee, charming ayre,
My senses rock with wonder sweete;
Like snowe on wooll thy fallings are,
Soft, like a spiritts, are thy feete:
Greife who need feare
That hath an eare?
Down lett him lye
And slumbring dye,
And change his soule for harmony.
poem by William Strode
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You left without a goodbye
You left a life time ago.
You never said goodbye.
The angels took you home.
To rest in a beautiful place.
You never said good bye
Hart breaking as it is.
Your last words I did hear.
Was I love you.
Hart breaking it was.
Remember the red roses.
You loved them so.
Death is a permant thing
Death is forever
Goodbye could be the end
If you want it to be.
Let them live on in your hart
in spirit and another world.
Then they never reall left you.
Amy Kerswell
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No Language In Our Lungs
There is no language in our lungs
To tell the world just how we feel
No bridge of thought
No mental link
No letting out just what you think
There is no language in our lungs
There is no muscle in our tongues
To tell the world whats in our hearts
No were leaving nothing
Just chiselled stones
No chance to speak before were bones
There is no muscle in our tongues
I thought I had the whole world in my mouth
I thought I could say what I wanted to say
For a second that thought became a sword in my hand
I could slay any problem that would stand in my way
I felt just like a crusader
Lionheart, a holy land invader
But nobody can say what they really mean to say and
The impotency of speech came up and hit me that day and
I would have made this instrumental
But the words got in the way
There is no language in our...
There is no language in our lungs
To tell the world whats in our hearts
No were leaving nothing behind
Just chiselled stones
No chance to speak before were bones
There is no language in our lungs.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Words
Words on this paper
Words in my head
Words while I'm texting
Computing
Unsaid
Words between people
Words on the phone
Words upon words
Even when I'm alone
Words from the Bible
I question
Don't mesh
Words from pornography
Making them flesh
Words with flat letters
Written in black
Good words and bad words
You cannot take back
Words that are shallow
Words that are deep
When they're too many
They put me to sleep
Words that I'm writing
And rhyming you read
Whatever I'm saying
There's prolly no need
Words from the alphabet
Words that can't be
When you are blind
And it's Braile that you see
Words that are worthless
And said on the fly
My words or your words
Are most likely lies
Words in a sentence
Wise words or fair
The only words earnest
Are those said in prayer
Written by Sara Fielder © 2011
poem by Sara Fielder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Holy Sonnet VIII: If Faithfull Soules
If faithfull soules be alike glorifi'd
As Angels, then my fathers soul doth see,
And adds this even to full felecitie,
That valiantly I hels wide mouth o'stride:
But if our mindes to these soules be descry'd
By circumstances, and by signes that be
Apparent in us, not immediately,
How shall my mindes white truth by them be try'd?
They see idolatrous lovers weepe and mourne,
And vile blasphemous Conjurers to call
On Jesus name, and Pharisaicall
Dissemblers feigne devotion. Then turne
O pensive soule, to God, for he knows best
Thy true griefe, for he put it in my breast.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet XLIII
SHall I then silent be or shall I speake?
And if I speake, her wrath renew I shall:
and if I silent be, my hart will breake,
or choked be with ouerflowing gall.
What tyranny is this both my hart to thrall,
and eke my toung with proud restraint to tie?
that nether I may speake nor thinke at all,
but like a stupid stock in silence die.
Yet I my hart with silence secretly
will teach to speak, and my iust cause to plead:
and eke mine eies with meeke humility,
loue learned letters to her eyes to read.
Which her deep wit, that true harts thought can spel,
wil soone conceiue, and learne to construe well.
poem by Edmund Spenser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Faculty
Sometimes it seems so hard to work out the words,
and then again it seems not hard at all. Just write,
is as simple as that. There are times i can't seem to
work the words, other times the words come up
bubbling in my head with character and meaning.
At times i feel challenged by other writers, and i
begging to doubt my ability to work the words,
i simple read another writer and then i know i have
nothing to be worry about. I understand then that my
contest is with myself and not with other writers.
We all think about the same things, because once
in our life’s we all go through the same situations.
We all have the brain to create anything in our heads.
There’s nothing that i can't do if i focus and if i
don't focus; “you see” this word- focus is meaningful
in some ways, we need the focus, but in poetry we
need more the fantasy in our thoughts, the meaning
to our words, focusing can be important, but if your
head is not in the mood, there’s not going to be any
words bubbling up, even though you don’t need it so
much, because you can create a poem out of anything.
There’s one thing about writing, and reading poetry,
understanding the meaning behind the words.
Every word or phrase has a meaning behind, this is
where readers need to understand; for example-if i'm
drinking away my sorrows, it can mean, crying my
heart out, it can mean, i need to forget, it can mean,
a big hangover, it can mean, sleeping out in the porch,
it can mean, forgetting all you did last night; how many
things out of a phrase. Right know I would just like
to be in my cabin and sit right in front of the fire-place
with a bottle of wine and enjoy my pastoral life while
i write, amazing things.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Waves
How is it I never see
The waves that bring me her words to me
for though unseen they drift around
they catch my breath and knock me down
I feel them quickly swirling by
As they withdraw with my reply
And slip into the dark of night
As I attemt to stay upright
Instead I'm stranded on my knees
As words depart upon the breeze
That quickly drifts away from here
And possibly won't reach her ear
If we could see the many waves
that flow through clouds and sunken caves
She'd sense at least the words that sought her
on the winds of the underwater
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I'll Never Stop
Ooh yeah
I'll...
I'll...
I'll never stop
I don't know
Will you believe me
After all that's said and done
All the lies
How I regret them baby now
I'm the loser
And you're shining like the sun
Tell me why can't I still be the one
Alright
Chorus:
I'll never stop untill you'll mind
I can wait forever till the end of time
Cause my hart is in your hands
Don't you understand
I'll never stop
I'll never stop
How could I ever
When my hart is in your hands
And I know
Baby there is no turning back
I'll
Say that I'm crazy
And I kind of understand
How I wish for this nightmare...to end
Oh yeah
Chorus:
I'll never stop untill you'll mind
I can wait forever till the end of time
Cause my hart is in your hands
Don't you understand
I'll never stop
yeaa
I'll never stop
ooh ooh ooh ooohohoh
Do you believe me
When your hart is in my hand
Don't you understand
I'll never stop (I'll never stop)
Till the end of time (I can wait forever)
My heart is in your hand (My hart is in your hand)
I'll never stop
Until your mine
I'll wait forever till the end of time
Cause my hart is in your hand
Don't you understand
I'll never stop
song performed by by N Sync
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I'd come from the bottom of the barrel. Just Owen Hart getting out of the shadow of Bret Hart's little brother. Everyone figured, this is a joke, Owen's going to get squashed.
Her Epitaph
Happy Grave, thou dost enshrine
That which makes thee a rich mine:
Remember yet, 'tis but a loane;
And wee must have it back, Her owne,
The very same; Marke mee, the same:
Thou canst not cheat us with a lame
Deformed Carcase; Shee was fayre,
Fresh as Morning, sweete as Ayre:
Purer than other flesh as farre
As other Soules than Bodies are:
And that thou mayst the better see
To finde her out: two stars there bee
Eclipsed now; uncloude but those
And they will poynt thee to the Rose
That dyde each cheeke, now pale and wan,
But will bee when shee wakes againe
Fresher than ever: And howere
Her long sleepe may alter Her
Her Soule will know her Body streight,
Twas made so fitt for't. Noe deceite
Can suite another to it: none
Cloath it so neatly as its owne.
poem by William Strode
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
If I Ever Say I Love You It Will Be Politely
I'll never say 'I love you' to another woman.
Those words that burst first time so full, deliciously,
of joy, of gratitude at the sharing of an act of 'love'.
I don't seek, or long to hear, those same words said to me.
I don't know, have never known, I think,
their meaning.
But once said they must, at any opportunity,
be repeated until devalued to worthlessness.
'I love you', for each Christmas and every Birthday.
For Valentine's Days, 'I love you'.
For Wedding Day and First Date Day, ' I love you'.
For First Day of Joining in Mutually Consensual Sexual Intercourse,
'I love you'.
For Saturday nights, 'I love you'.
For ironed shirt or sewed on button,
for apple pie or ruined roast,
for diddums snookums burny finger,
'I love you'!
And then, when one has been angered,
or hurt, been brought to tears,
we make it right, with, 'You know I love you.'
You know I love you?
When cruelty of word or deed has cut so deep?
You know I love you?
But, if those words, withheld by truce, are never spoken once,
they are never spoken to excess.
Never spoken to where one has heard it all before.
To where one thinks the other said uncaringly,
'I love you.'
Or even worse, that it was they, themselves,
who lied with their, 'I love you.'
When those words are withheld by agreement,
by will of tender truce,
then no longer does lazy, thoughtless,
carelessness of, 'I love you',
suffice for depth of feeling, or
'You know I love you', for remorse.
For those words become the way of apathy
and, when refused to glibly uttering tongues,
must be replaced with something else.
With something, surely, more full of caring.
And, whether by a difference in glance or touch
or tone of voice or smile or kiss,
replaced with something from within.
With some thoughtful thing, perhaps,
of meaning.
poem by Red O'Mara
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Guess
There is a certain Yankee phrase
I always have revered,
Yet, somehow, in these modern days,
It's almost disappeared;
It was the usage years ago,
But nowadays it's got
To be regarded coarse and low
To answer: 'I guess not!'
The height of fashion called the pink
Affects a British craze--
Prefers 'I fancy' or 'I think'
To that time-honored phrase;
But here's a Yankee, if you please,
That brands the fashion rot,
And to all heresies like these
He answers, 'I--guess not!'--
When Chaucer, Wycliff, and the rest
Express their meaning thus,
I guess, if not the very best,
It's good enough for us!
Why! shall the idioms of our speech
Be banished and forgot
For this vain trash which moderns teach?
Well, no, sir; I guess not!
There's meaning in that homely phrase
No other words express--
No substitute therefor conveys
Such unobtrusive stress.
True Anglo-Saxon speech, it goes
Directly to the spot,
And he who hears it always knows
The worth of 'I--guess--not!'
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Am Fixed
I am in your company,
Any longer will be the end of me.
I came up to say something,
To dispute about a deed and its relaxation.
I opened my eyes to you with sincerity
And spoke another phrase for you to learn.
The arguments took place in this position,
Your actions were definitely being tested.
I have accosted you to fight you,
And the words of the pen you used
Are fixed forming wonderful meaning
In the very air.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Not only was it that I surprised people by beating Bret Hart, but it was a great match. They still rate it as one of the best wrestling matches of all time.