In Honour Of You
In honour of you I'll live my life
To the very best of my ability
I'll recall and apply every wise counsel you ever offered
Savour every word you said trying to raise whatever
Cherish your every attempt to make me feel
In honour of you I'll face the pain gladly
I'll be thankful for the occasion to gain insight
I'll do my utmost to meet with equanimity
Every asshole angel put on my path
Welcoming each challenge as a great opportunity to grow
In honour of you - who has shown me being
Who's own pain is never ever spoken
Who's long suffering is celebrated as a great gift
Who's love and teaching nourishes so, so many
Many and I see life with far, far clearer eyes
In honour of you, who's feet I humbly touch
I shall greet each day with limitless joy
Capture every sparkling moment in my heart's nest
Move forward into new projects, new beginnings
Holding ever and always the nearness of your gracious presence
In honour of you I'll continue traveling
Exploring other cultures, other peoples, other points of view
I'll become fluent in la lingua italiana, visit the Aeolian islands
Find some tenderness for India; visit an ashram; practice Yoga
Everything and anything - all in honour and appreciation of you
poem by Winston T. Gylles
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Related quotes
Honour Life
honour life
honour people loved
while they are here
rather than mourn
when they are gone
when it is too late
show a little sincere appreciation
for family friends life loved
saving you from empty alienation
appreciate gift love time
subtle small gifts divine
memories shine through time
to love appreciate fully now
seems a far better rational response
than to regret at fatal final hour
honour life
honour life
while it is here
poem by Terence George Craddock
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M: II: I Cannot Pay your Honour
I have sought to triumph over nothing,
have tri-ed,
have failed to -umph.
Honour is paid
By accepting honour.
By accepting honour,
I would honour trying,
would honour lack of -umph.
I cannot pay your honour.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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What Shall I Do For the Land that Bred Me
What shall I do for the land that bred me,
Her homes and fields that folded and fed me?—
Be under her banner and live for her honour:
Under her banner I’ll live for her honour.
CHORUS. Under her banner live for her honour.
Not the pleasure, the pay, the plunder,
But country and flag, the flag I am under—
There is the shilling that finds me willing
To follow a banner and fight for honour.
CH. We follow her banner, we fight for her honour.
Call me England’s fame’s fond lover,
Her fame to keep, her fame to recover.
Spend me or end me what God shall send me,
But under her banner I live for her honour.
CH. Under her banner we march for her honour.
Where is the field I must play the man on?
O welcome there their steel or cannon.
Immortal beauty is death with duty,
If under her banner I fall for her honour.
CH. Under her banner we fall for her honour.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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A Woman's Honour
Love bade me hope, and I obeyed;
Phyllis continued still unkind:
Then you may e'en despair, he said,
In vain I strive to change her mind.
Honour's got in, and keeps her heart,
Durst he but venture once abroad,
In my own right I'd take your part,
And show myself the mightier God.
This huffing Honour domineers
In breasts alone where he has place:
But if true generous Love apppears,
The hector dares not show his face.
Let me still languish and complain,
Be most unhumanly denied:
I have some pleasure in my pain,
She can have none with all her pride.
I fall a sacrifice to Love,
She lives a wretch for Honour's sake;
Whose tyrant does most cruel prove,
The difference is not hard to make.
Consider real Honour then,
You'll find hers cannot be the same;
'Tis noble confidence in men,
In women, mean, mistrustful shame.
poem by Lord John Wilmot
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To Succeed With Honour
the will to honour win
to succeed with honour
to sacrifice for honour
is worth in excess
of 24 carat gold
an attitude not to be sold
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Stop These Honour Killings
those who kill in the name of honour
what honour are they talking about?
who are you to take so precious a life
who are you to bring justice about
love conquers all so we are told
but here love has bought only death and hate
redeem your twisted sense of justice
take guard before its just too late
to kill to maim, is not humane
to play God is more insane
oh twisted sense of justice, stop
stop causing so much shock and pain
who are you to kill in the name of honour
what honour are u talking about
leave justice to the one above
forget this violence, just cast it out,
live and let live is what should be
look within and always learn to see
you are not perfect, far from it,
cast out cruelty and tyranny
youre full of lies, ego, false pride,
you think others will look up to you
look within my friend and see yourself
youre not a hero, but the hated few
honour is sacred, burning bright
belongs to men that stand up and fight
men who value life for all
men of honour stand out tall
stop these killings once for all
you think youre high but you'll take a fall
play not the judge, just live your own
before bad karma seeds be sown
poem by Arti Chopra
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In the spirit of Rumi - 35 - Three answers
I asked the passing strangers
in the fine street of the wise,
‘Tell me about your Self itself’
The first man said to me
‘It is like a rose garden
planted around a fountain –
it is always beautiful,
changing, yet unchanging;
it is the very centre
of my peace and rest…’
The second man said to me
‘It is like a treasure house of riches –
full of more sparkling, deep-coloured jewels
than anyone’s imagination
could ever begin to describe;
as beautiful as anything
in heaven or on earth…’
The third man said to me
‘It is like a mine of gold and silver
where you only have to dig
and there is always more to find…’
To the first man I said
‘You are indeed blest,
O noble sir… and must have earned yourself
this great honour…tell me,
do you invite every passing stranger
to walk and sit in that garden with you? ’
He said
‘Yes; I am a poet.’
To the second man I said
‘You are indeed blest,
O noble sir… and must have earned yourself
this great honour… tell me,
do you invite every passing stranger
into your treasure house, saying,
take all you need -
to make rich their life, too? ’
He said
‘Yes; I am a poet.’
To the third man I said
‘You are indeed blest,
O noble sir… and must have earned yourself
this great honour… tell me,
do you invite every passing stranger
to come and dig whenever he so needs? ’
He said
‘Yes; I am a poet.’
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Poem for November 28,2007
At rest, in peace, and happily,
in silence, in stillness, and joyfully,
honour yourself. Be yourself.
When you honour yourself
you honour the whole created world.
Live just this day in your glorious self.
Remember it for the rest of your life
as the day the world rested in itself,
the day we were all at rest in peace,
the day the world was a happy place
and you were glad to be that peace;
the day we were all ourself.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Poetical Epistle To Sir William Bennet, Bart. of Grubbat
My trembling muse your honour does address,
That it's a bold attempt most humbly I confess;
If you'll encourage her young fagging flight,
She'll upwards soar and mount Parnassus' height.
If little things with great may be compared
In Rome it so with the divine Virgil fared;
The tuneful bard Augustus did inspire,
Made his great genius flash poetic fire;
But if upon my flight your honour frowns,
The muse folds up her wings, and dying - justice owns.
poem by James Thomson
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Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; take honour from me and my life is done.
quote by William Shakespeare
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Duellists
He threw down a glove you made the mistake
Of picking it up now youre gone
The choosing of guns or fighting with swords
The choice of weapons is done
Hell tear you apart as soon as you start
You know you dont have a chance.
Chorus
Oh...oh...fight for the honour
Fight for the splendour
Fight for the pleasure
Oh...oh...fight for the honour
Fight for the splendour
Fight for your life!
Ready to start the duel begins the best man wins in the end.
A lunge and a feint, a parry too late
A cut to the chest and youre down
Seeing the stain then feeling the pain
Feeling the sweat on your brow.
Chorus
The fighting resumes, a silence looms the swordsmen move gainst each
Other
A cut and a thrust, a parry, a blow, a stab to the heart and youre down
The angel of death hears your last breath
Meanwhile the reaper looks on.
Chorus
Oh...oh...fought the honour
Fought for the splendour
Fought for the pleasure
Oh...oh...fought for the honour
Fought for the splendour
Fought to the death
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XXIII
ASKING FOR HER HEART
Give me thy heart, Juliet, give me thy heart!
I have a need of it, an absolute need,
Because my own heart has thus long been dead.
I live but by thy life. The very smart
Of this new pain which has been born of thee
Is thine, thy own great pleasure's counterpart.
I stand before thee naked. Clothe thou me.
Bring out a robe,--thy truth, thy chastity.
Put rings upon my fingers,--honour's meed.
For thou canst give, nor ever reck the cost,
Being the royal creature that thou art,
The fountain of all honour, whose high boast
Is to be greatest when thou givest most.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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The Ships that Won't Go Down
We hear a great commotion
'Bout the ship that comes to grief,
That founders in mid-ocean,
Or is driven on a reef;
Because it's cheap and brittle
A score of sinners drown.
But we hear but mighty little
Of the ships that won't go down.
Here's honour to the builders –
The builders of the past;
Here's honour to the builders
That builded ships to last;
Here's honour to the captain,
And honour to the crew;
Here's double-column headlines
To the ships that battle through.
They make a great sensation
About famous men that fail,
That sink a world of chances
In the city morgue or gaol,
Who drink, or blow their brains out,
Because of "Fortune's frown".
But we hear far too little
Of the men who won't go down.
The world is full of trouble,
And the world is full of wrong,
But the heart of man is noble,
And the heart of man is strong!
They say the sea sings dirges,
But I would say to you
That the wild wave's song's a paean
For the men that battle through.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Swift Kill Biting Mosquitoes
goldfish are a sacred species
cats are a sacred species
all life is a sacred species
somewhere to their devotees...
already a few honour all species
already a few honour all life
Buddhists honour all life sacred
most swift kill biting mosquitoes...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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At Parting
Go, since you must, but, Dearest, know
That, Honour having bid you go,
Your honour, if your life be spent,
Shall have a costly monument.
This heart, that fire and roses is
Beneath the magic of your kiss,
Shall turn to marble if you die
And be your deathless effigy.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Sonnet 25: Let those who are in favour with their stars
Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,
Unlooked for joy in that I honour most.
Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread,
But as the marigold at the sun's eye,
And in themselves their pride lies burièd,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famousèd for fight,
After a thousand victories once foiled,
Is from the book of honour razèd quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toiled.
Then happy I that love and am beloved
Where I may not remove nor be removed.
poem by William Shakespeare
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The king is extraordinary.
Honour is made for human functions.
A monarch is not extraordinary;
The ordinary people make him so.
Unless he is made extraordinary
He could not rule the ordinary ones.
The extraordinary must respect
The demand of the honour bestowed
On him by the ordinary people,
And must act to be extraordinary.
Masters must honour the headmaster,
Who must respect the demand of honour
Expected of him by other masters,
Failing which he will lose his status.
26.10.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Best School of All
It's good to see the school we knew,
the land of youth and dream.
To greet again the rule we knew,
before we took the stream.
Though long we've missed the sight of her,
Out hearts may not forget:
We've lost the old delight of her,
We keep her honour yet.
Chorus:
We'll honour yet the school we knew
The best school of all
We'll honour yet the rule we knew
Till the last bell call
For working days or holidays
And glad or melancholy days
They were great days and jolly days
At the best school of all
The stars and sounding vanities
That half the crowd bewitch.
What are they but inanities
To him that treads the pitch?
And where's the welth I'm wondering,
Could buy the cheers that roll
When the last charge goes thundering
Towards the twilight goal?
Then men that tanned the hide of us,
Our daily foes and friends,
They shall not lose their pride of us,
However the journey ends.
Their voice to us who sing of it,
No more its message bears,
But the round world shall ring of it,
And all we are be theirs.
To speak of fame a venture is,
There's little here can bide,
But we may face the centuries,
And dare the deepending tide;
for though the dust that's part of us,
To dust again be gone,
Yet here shall beat the heart of us,
The school we handed on!
We'll honour yet the school we knew
The best school of all
We'll honour yet the rule we knew
Till the last bell call
For working days or holidays
And glad or melancholy days
They were great days and jolly days
At the best school of all
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Energy
Matter
It wants to play
Be a mother of singing
Waiting for the return of words
Into her womb
Sparkles between a living and dead self
And an anti self
Honour the innocence
Of its unawareness
Gravity
It wants to play
Increase decrease inside out
Strongholds
And an anti self
Honour the innocence
Of its unawareness
Time
It wants to play
Be a father of changes
It waits for nothing
But its own end
And its anti self
Honour the innocence
Of its unawareness
Space
It wants to play
Be a brother to spacious
Waiting in spasm of the dead ends
For a playful vast
And its anti self
Honour the innocence
Of its unawareness
Energy
It wants to play
Over the dimensions
Be a soul's sister
Across the humans
Free
To kill its anti self
Honour the innocence
Of its awareness
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Beauty
Beauty is something
that the eye can see
that still lingers
in the mind,
long after its presence is gone
and still one can find it
in unconcrete things
like honour, passion and love
which have the ability
to remain great.
poem by Gert Strydom
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