Wheat
Soon the white of your flowers
Would be unable to bear
The abundance of youth,
As man's nostrils scent
The quarry in you.The whole
World becomes you scaffold
As you fall kneeling to the guillotine,
Heavy head beheaded
To feed the dying
As living virtue surviving outside
Man and doubly resplendent
At death.
poem by Yoonoos Peerbocus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Surviving
Look at us here today
Lots of talking with nothing to say
And if I seem somewhat afraid
Im surviving, thats all I am
Im surviving to be a better man
Im surviving, thats my plan
Just surviving
Yesterday, I was sure
But today I dont know anymore
Thought I was brave till I saw
My frightened reflection in a dark corridor
Now Im surviving to be a better man
Im surviving with an emotional plan
Im surviving, so please understand
Im surviving, surviving
There are millions of people out there
Trying to get by in a world that dont care
People smiling through clouds of despair
Protecting the wounds until they repair
Theyre surviving the best way they can
They are surviving every woman and man
Just surviving with an emotion plan
So keep surviving
Maybe its my shattered pride
Thats why I get scared of emotional ties
Dont let them in, otherwise
Youll smile like a fool
But youll be hurting inside
So Im surviving through the insecurity
I am surviving, I got hope inside of me
So Im smiling through all the insanity
Im surviving, surviving
I was moved by the way that you said
Dont be afraid, I wont leave you for dead
You took my soul and mixed up my head
You left me alive
You should have killed me instead
Now Im surviving, thats all I am
Im surviving to be a better man
Im surviving, thats my plan
Im surviving, surviving
Surviving
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
After Death
IF we must part, this parting is the best:
How would you bear to lay
Your head on some warm pillow far away--
Your head, so used to lying on my breast?
But now your pillow is cold;
Your hands have flowers, and not my hands, to hold;
Upon our bed the worn bride-linen lies.
I have put the death-money upon your eyes,
So that you should not wake up in the night.
I have bound your face with white;
I have washed you, yes, with water and not with tears,--
Those arms wherein I have slept so many years,
Those feet that hastened when they came to me,
And all your body that belonged to me.
I have smoothed your dear dull hair,
And there is nothing left to say for you
And nothing left to fear or pray for you;
And I have got the rest of life to bear:
Thank God it is you, not I, who are lying there.
If I had died
And you had stood beside
This still white bed
Where the white, scented, horrible flowers are spread,--
I know the thing it is,
And I thank God that He has spared you this.
If one must bear it, thank God it was I
Who had to live and bear to see you die,
Who have to live, and bear to see you dead.
You will have nothing of it all to bear:
You will not even know that in your bed
You lie alone. You will not miss my head
Beside you on the pillow: you will rest
So soft in the grave you will not miss my breast.
But I--but I--Your pillow and your place--
And only the darkness laid against my face,
And only my anguish pressed against my side--
Thank God, thank God, that it was you who died!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Charlotte Corday
For murder in death by guillotine she had to pay
The legendary woman Charlotte Corday
With a knife she stabbed to death Jean Paul Marat
Whilst he was relaxing alone in his bath,
Jean Paul Marat was one who was not free of taint
A power hungry fellow he was far from a saint
I killed one person to save thousands at her trial she did say
She lives on in legend brave Charlotte Corday
Though it did have it's legends and figures of romance
Not a good Land to live in eighteenth century France
Charlotte Corday was beheaded for murder by knife
Though one can say she did not have a fair go in life
Beheaded in her mid twenties and in her life's prime
But her legend lives on through the centuries of time.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
death death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death death
death death death death death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
His Youth
Dying? I am not dying. Are you mad?
You think I need to ask for heavenly grace?
\I\ think \you\ are a fiend, who would be glad
To see me struggle in death's cold embrace.
'But, man you lie! for I am strong-in truth
Stronger than I have been in years; and soon
I shall feel young again as in my youth,
My glorious youth-life's one great priceless boon.
'O youth, youth, youth! O God, that golden time,
When proud and glad I laughed the hours away.
Why, there's no sacrifice (perhaps no crime)
I'd pause at, could it make me young to-day.
'But I'm not \old\! I grew-just ill, somehow;
Grew stiff of limb, and weak, and dim of sight.
It was but sickness. I am better now,
Oh, vastly better, ever since last night.
'And I could weep warm floods of happy tears
To think my strength is coming back at last,
For I have dreamed of such an hour for years,
As I lay thinking of my glorious past.
'You shake your head? Why, man, if you were sane
I'd strike you to my feet, I would, in truth.
How dare you tell me that my hopes are vain?
How dare you say I have outlived my youth?
''In heaven I may regain it?' Oh, be still!
I want no heaven but what my glad youth gave.
Its long, bright hours, its rapture and its thrill-
O youth, youth, youth! it is my \youth\ I crave.
'There is no heaven! There's nothing but a deep
And yawning grave from which I shrink in fear.
I am not sure of even rest or sleep;
Perhaps we lie and \think\, as I have here.
'Think, think, think, think, as we lie there and rot,
And hear the young above us laugh in glee.
How dare you say I'm dying! \I am not\.
I would curse God if such a thing could be.
'Why, see me stand! why, hear this strong, full breath-
Dare you repeat that silly, base untruth?'
A cry-a fall-the silence known as death
Hushed his wild words. Well, has he found his youth?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fundamental of Liar Chapter CX: Ability
It’s not unable, it’s just not a favor
It’s not unable, it’s just reluctance
It’s not unable, it’s just not my style
It’s not unable, it’s just wrong
It’s not unable, it’s just no time
It’s not unable, it’s just out of place
It’s not unable, it’s just not consideration
It’s not unable, it’s just objection
It’s not unable, it’s just not effective
It’s not unable, it’s just stubbornness
It’s not unable, it’s just not important
It’s not unable, it’s just mercy
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You who live
You who live now in this world
And which live sovereign in virtue,
It is to you death remembered?
Your fathers are in the deep pit
Eaten worms, without lance and ecu,
You who live now in this world
And which reign sovereign in virtue.
Warn there and carry out round life,
Because while living will be cold and chanu,
Because in the end will die pare and naked.
You who live now in this world
And which reign sovereign in virtue
It is to you death remembered?
poem by Eustache Deschamps
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When You Strolled Along My Heart.!
When you strolled along
the streets of my heart
the southern breeze-
did it not shower stars in billions
all along your paths?
If alone the seeds of your eyes
to fall upon my heart-
would not my mind all at once
ascend into deep space
to pluck shiny stars
to garland your fairy soul?
In the momentary tremors
at the corners of your eyes
my aeons went tottering in their strides!
The thirst that welled up in my heart
longed deep for the droplets of
your sidelong glance!
My heart that was parched into desert
by the heat of my lust-
would it not dance in ecstasy
erupting into the flowers of love?
In all the land that my darling walked
the horse of my mind
would walk in pride with its head erect!
Does a maid need any language?
Tell me..who could answer her eyes?
**** **** ****
Who told you are a girl?
Must you be called a guillotine
that beheaded my soul
by the sharp blades of your eyes!
Lo..! by my momentary hesitations
my aeons were burnt to ashes!
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Death's Severed Head
Death now goes about without it's head,
Lurking around in the shadow depraved.
But now unable to aim it's sharp sting
And to claim it's infamous victory at the grave.
All it does now is invade our innocent youth
And tries to afflict them with lust and hate.
It burdens them with hopelessness and despair
And ruins minds while holding wide the devil's gate.
It met the people trekking through the Sinai,
Seeking the glorious life of the Promised Land.
It turned back their minds to the fleshpots of Egypt
And took the gold they had brought from their hand.
No more let death be the darkener your heart,
Nor bend your image and steal your youth.
‘Cause death and it's head was made to part,
And now eternally drips its blood in truth.
poem by Albert Price
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Living Legend
The flame will not die.
I pursue the path of smoke
the virtue of suffering
gives the pure light.
The book knows my inside truth
and tells no one. I weep for the swallows,
I could not feed.
I lay one white
stone for each death.
You will scatter my ashes,
in the abandoned land
where silence walks
and words lie like microcosm
of contemporary hunger.
Life was a cupful of tears.
The voices always spilled challenging
the fidelity of flowing water.
The living legend turns in grave,
I pray for peace
I promised myself to stand erect
when the quake comes.
I will save the flora
and the grass of dying earth.
I ask for one more life
to clear the debt & bleach my guilt.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Mariner
he violet scent is sacred
Like dreams of angels bright;
The hawthorn smells of passion
Told in a moonless night.
But the smell is in my nostrils,
Through blossoms red or gold,
Of my own green flower unfading,
A bitter smell and bold.
The lily smells of pardon,
The rose of mirth; but mine
Smells shrewd of death and honour,
And the doom of Adam's line.
The heavy scent of wine-shops
Floats as I pass them by,
But never a cup I quaff from,
And never a house have I.
Till dropped down forty fathoms,
I lie eternally;
And drink from God's own goblet
The green wine of the sea.
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Rain Before Dawn
He dull, faint patter in the drooping hours
Drifts in upon my sleep and fills my hair
With damp; the burden of the heavy air
Is strewn upon me where my tired soul cowers,
Shrinking like some lone queen in empty towers
Dying. Blind with unrest I grow aware:
The pounding of broad wings drifts down the stair
And sates me like the heavy scent of flowers.
I lie upon my heart. My eyes like hands
Grip at the soggy pillow. Now the dawn
Tears from her wetted breast the splattered blouse
Of night; lead-eyed and moist she straggles o'er the lawn,
Between the curtains brooding stares and stands
Like some drenched swimmer -- Death's within the house!
poem by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
Stanzas
I'll not weep that thou art going to leave me,
There's nothing lovely here;
And doubly will the dark world grieve me,
While thy heart suffers there.
I'll not weep, because the summer's glory
Must always end in gloom;
And, follow out the happiest story -
It closes with a tomb!
And I am weary of the anguish
Increasing winters bear;
Weary to watch the spirit languish
Through years of dead despair.
So, if a tear, when thou art dying,
Should haply fall from me,
It is but that my soul is sighing,
To go and rest with thee.
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Air
Like fresh blossoming flowers on a spring day.
Her scent is in the air.
Like the smell of rain right before it pours down.
Her scent is in the air.
Like the aroma of a hot apple pie cooling on the window seal.
Her scent is in air.
I try to cover my nose with my shirt
but her scent seeps right through it.
It is in the air.
I try fanning it away
but the more I fan the stronger her scent lofts in the air.
I decide not to fight it anymore and I inhale her scent.
It first suffocates me but then it sustains me.
To me her scent is love and it is
In the air.
Bloodline
Eternal the kiss I breath
Siphon your blood to me
Feel my wounds of your god
Forever rape mortality
I smell of death
I reek of hate
I will live forever
Lost child pay the dead
Bleeding screams of silence
In my veins your eternity
I'll kill you and your dreams tonight
Begin new life
Bleed your death upon me
Let your bloodline feed my youth
First breath born come alive learn to kill
Bloodfest awaits to feed your hunger
Dark side has no rival test your faith in blood
Night hides the hunting packs a feeding frenzy
I'll kill you and your dreams tonight
Begin new life
Bleed your death upon me
Let your bloodline feed my youth
I am the first not the last
Condemned by a single kiss
Betrayed eternally I'll rip inside your soul
Contaminating the world
Defying god and son
Black heart that brings your death
Living in infamy
Drink the flesh of life itself
Prepare to reign a thousand years
I'll kill you and your dreams tonight
Begin new life
Bleed your death upon me
Let your bloodline feed my youth
Blame god chosen children
As you die I'm immortal
Faithless no religion
Stalking prey is my confession
Captive blood enslavement
Pain and hunger drives your madness
Drink flesh life itself
Prepare to reign a thousand years
song performed by by Slayer from God Hates Us All
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
In This Garden
In this garden
In this beautiful garden
The flowers and the grass
The stones and the water
The sculptures and all art
Sing a song
A song of beauty
A song of harmony
A song of hope
The wind whistles gently
Is it to the east?
Or is it to the west?
I don’t know and I don’t need to know
All is so beautiful
Hush…
Hush humanity
Hush…
I can feel the scent on y nostrils
The scent of the flowers
The sound of the water nearby welcoming
Peace
In this garden
In this beautiful garden
With beautiful flowers
Where art lives
Hush
Play the music
Let the flowers live the music
Let the drums be heard
Let the music come to life
Play the music
Let it be heard here today
In this garden
In this beautiful garden
With very beautiful flowers
Where art comes to life
poem by Jack Shaka
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Age considers, youth ventures
Age considers, youth ventures
Age visualizes, youth dreams
Age makes theories, youth experiments
Age loves, youth longs
Age sees people, youth sees places
Age knows belongings, youth discovers them
Age pains to gain, youth gains to others' pain
Age has heart, youth has mind
Age is thoughtful, youth is tactful
Age ponders, youth wonders
Age recounts, youth counts
Age is experienced, youth is in experience
Age is cautious, youth dashes
Age floats, youth swims
Age lives, youth still making a living
Age is in touch with termination, youth with determination
Age is confident, youth is competent
Age adds years to living, youth adds life to living
Age is lost in past, youth is drowned in future
Age is grown, youth is crown
Ageless is youth, youthless is age
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Widow's Lament in Springtime
Sorrow is my own yard
where the new grass
flames as it has flamed
often before but not
with the cold fire
that closes round me this year.
Thirtyfive years
I lived with my husband.
The plumtree is white today
with masses of flowers.
Masses of flowers
load the cherry branches
and color some bushes
yellow and some red
but the grief in my heart
is stronger than they
for though they were my joy
formerly, today I notice them
and turn away forgetting.
Today my son told me
that in the meadows,
at the edge of the heavy woods
in the distance, he saw
trees of white flowers.
I feel that I would like
to go there
and fall into those flowers
and sink into the marsh near them.
poem by William Carlos Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stanzas
I'll not weep that thou art going to leave me,
There's nothing lovely here;
And doubly will the dark world grieve me,
While thy heart suffers there.
I'll not weep, because the summer's glory
Must always end in gloom;
And, follow out the happiest story—
It closes with a tomb!
And I am weary of the anguish
Increasing winters bear;
Weary to watch the spirit languish
Through years of dead despair.
So, if a tear, when thou art dying,
Should haply fall from me,
It is but that my soul is sighing,
To go and rest with thee.
poem by Emily Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Heavy Cloud No Rain
Turned on the weather man just after the news
I needed sweet rain to wash away my blues
He looked at the chart but he look in vain
Heavy cloud but no rain
Back in time with louis xvi
At the court of the people he was number one
Hed be the bluest blood theyd ever seen
When the king said hi to the guillotine
The royal astrologer was run out of breath
He thought that maybe the rain would postpone his death
He look in sky but he look in vain
Heavy cloud but no rain
Well the land was cracking and the river was dry
All the crops were dying when they ought to be high
So to save his farm from the bankers draft
The farmer took out a book on some old witchcraft
He made a spell and a potion on a midsummers night
He killed a brindled calf in the pale moonlight
He prayed to the sky but he prayed in vain
Heavy cloud but no rain
Heavy cloud but no rain
The sun wont shine till the clouds are gone
The clouds wont go till their work is done
And every morning youll hear me pray
If only it would rain today
I asked my baby if thered be some way
She said shed save her love for a rainy day
I look in the sky but I look in vain
Heavy cloud but no rain
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!