Chidioch Tichborne (1558-1586)
On September the nineteenth 1586 in London Tower
When the bloom of his young life was decaying like a flower
Dying in the cool winds of the early Fall
In words his tragic life he did recall.
Chidioch Tichborne to something beautiful to gave life
In his farewell elegy to Agnes his wife
An elegy still read and popular today
True greatness can be slow for to meet decay.
Accused as being in a failed plot to murder Elizabeth England's Queen
His best days as a poet he had not seen
Hung drawn and quartered a brutal way to die
Such a death to justice surely gives the lie.
Executed in his twenty eight year even in those times that was young
But he did not remain as one unsung
His gift of life may have been snatched from him in his prime
But his life story and his elegy have withstood the test of time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Old Man's Saddest Story
We sat about the fireplace listening to the old man's tales
Of the youthful years of life he spent in lovely Alder Vale
He told some happy stories but he told some sad one's too
And the saddest story that he told I will relate to you.
'Twas the story of young Joaney Ryan who died whilst in her prime
When the fruits were ripe for picking in September's harvest time
She died at twenty three years old the valley beauty queen
And a fairer maid since her time the old man has not seen.
She was the most beautiful maid the old man ever knew
With sheeny hair of raven black and sparkling eyes of blue
Yet for all of her splendid beauty she did not show conceit
A better mannered girl than her no man could wish to meet.
Beauty it can take a woman quite a long, long way
But beauty quickly withers like the flowers that bloom in May,
You cannot judge a woman by her beauty or her dress
You can only judge a woman by the manner she possess.
He must have loved this lovely maid he must have loved her so
Who died in September forty six years ago
For as he told her story a tear showed in each eye
And it seemed quite clear to all of us that he was near to cry.
She died in a hospital this lady like woman
From Leuchaemia a disease that greatly curtail life's span
On the tenth day of September her remains were put to earth
Twenty three years and thirty six days from the day of her birth.
In each human's life story there is some share of woe
And the old man's saddest thoughts are of a maid he used to know
Who died of Leuchaemia whilst only in her prime
When the fruits were ripe for picking in September's harvest time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Another Dark Day
ANOTHER DARK DAY
From the arrays in the sky
eclipses another bright star
A curtain is drawn
A life, to an abrupt end
A flower once blossomed
now withers away.
Far away in Pakistan
A lone voice is cut in its prime
A life which stood against oppresion
A life which stood for justice
A life which stood for equality
A life which stood for democracy
Snuffed out in daylight
How bizzare
How cowardly
How cruel
This life now withers away
Adieu Benazir Bhutto
A life that counts
Better to die a hero
Than live an unsung life
The world mourns you
In our hearts, you live on
Till we meet again
Good night Mama
poem by Olumide Familusi
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Days
- Album: Reality
- Lyrics and music by David Bowie
Hold me tight
Keep me cool
Going mad
Don't know what to do
Do I need a friend?
Well I need one now
All the days of my life
All the days of my life
All the days I owe you
All I've done
I've done for me
All you gave
You gave for free
I gave nothing in return
And theres little left of me
All the days of my life
All the days of my life
All the days I owe you
With redeyed pain I'm knocking on your door again
My crazy brain in tangles pleading for your gentle voice
Those storms keep pounding through my faded heart
I'll play your sooth my sorry soul
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days I owe you
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days I owe you
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days I owe you
All the days of my life
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life's A Gift
Life’s a gift for you to send
Life’s a gift for god to end
Life’s a gift now you’re with me
Life’s a gift for all to see
Life’s a gift when love is true
Life’s a gift when times look blue
Life’s a gift with the one you trust
Life’s a gift even if UN just
Life’s a gift a ray of sun
Life’s a gift though your heads held to a gun
Life’s a gift when its handed on a tray
Life’s a gift even though it’s always on display
Life’s a gift it’s hard to understand how
Life’s a gift so take advantage of it now
poem by SharonAnn Dawson
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Tower Of London
Let me take you to trafalgar square
Let me take you there
Every streets a fashion catwalk
Everyones debonair
Let me take you to piccadilly
Guess it leads somewhere
Tower over centuries, tower over london
Tower up and frankly Im amazed
Whats done cannot be undone, not here not in london
Whats done can never be erased
So, tower up! - its those little things
Make life interesting- tower of london!
Tower up! - wasting time
Yours and mine - tower of london!
Hip london! hip london!
Let me take you to st.jamess square
Let me groove you there
Diplomats get target practice
In the open air
Psychobillies scream blue murder
Then they hit mayfair
Tower over centuries, tower over london
Tower up and frankly Im amazed
Whats done cannot be undone, not here not in london
Whats done can never be erased
So, tower up! - its those little things
Make life interesting- tower of london!
Tower up! - wasting time
Precious time - tower of london!
Tower up! Ill meet you there
Ill be there - tower of london
New york! - dont make me laugh
Ive seen photographs - tower of london...
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To My Dear Wife, Mercy, On Our 21st Marriage Anniversary
Twenty one years of married life
Have rolled off rather peacefully,
Although marred by some kind of strife,
In the twenty first century!
Life did not go on like our dreams;
But it was worthwhile and lovely;
It couldn’t give smiles or laughter beams,
But stood the test of time surely!
It could have been better than this,
Had we planned it accordingly?
It gave us woes more than the bliss;
Let’s hope the future is merry!
We had our times of happiness;
We had our days of anxiety;
God gave us light amidst darkness;
We toiled our way up righteously!
Let’s count our blessings, grace of God;
Let’s move ahead with hope and love;
Life’s numbers are even and odd;
’Tis time we thought of God above!
The days we passed were fairly good;
We may have failed in some ways still;
We dressed well, ate such dainty food;
We rarely fell seriously ill!
Life cannot happen as we want;
Some changes, we can always make;
Praises to God, let’s sing and chant;
We ate but have still our life’s cake!
Yet, God was kind often to us;
Our children are our wealth real;
From now on, there is no more fuss;
The Giver will our heart-wounds heal!
So, cheer up lady, my dear wife!
Not once did we have chance to cry;
More joy will rain in future life;
Together, we will live and die!
poem by John Celes
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Young And Beautiful
So young and beautiful
So young and beautiful
U're so young and beautiful
U're so full of life - everybody knows
That's why they try 2 take advantage of u...
but u don't have 2 do what the other ones do
U're so cool - the world at your feet,
they only want ur virginity
Keep ur clothes on and ur chastity
until u find the one that's worth it baby
So young and beautiful
So young and beautiful
U're so fine my heart's just pounding
If I had the chance 2 lay u down,
I'd probably take a rain check 'til next summer
cuz I don't wanna b like all ur other lovers
young and beautiful
young and beautiful
So young and beautiful
I'm hippin' u 2 the game darlin'
so that u'll always remain
young and beautiful
young and beautiful
oh yeah
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Edgar Allan Poe
An American literary icon but what caused his death none seem to know
He was more than a man of words the great Edgar Allan Poe
He died when in his forties his best writing years of him ahead
His fame has attained greatness and he is widely read.
Most writers in their forties have scarcely reached their writing prime
His marvellous poem 'The Raven' has not faded out in time
A writer for all ages and one of literary note
And many who love literature have him as their favourite poet.
In life he was quite famous in death greatness he did attain
As an immortal literary gem 'The Raven' does remain
In the English speaking Countries of the World from North to Southern shore
His writings remain popular and his readers now far more
Than he had in his lifetime his genius is living on
Whilst millions of his contemporaries to obscurity have gone
Despite the passing of time his literary legend grow
Though in his too brief life span few him did wish to know.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Grieving Mother
The patriots celebrating the war has been won
But the grieving mother weeps for her dead son
Who died a young hero in a war far away
His twenty third birthday it would be today.
Out of the young war dead war heroes are made
This morning she did not go to watch the parade
Instead she placed flowers on the grave where her son lay
And knelt on the grass for awhile for to pray.
She sees her son's death as a waste of a good young life
He never had the chance to make the young woman he loved his wife
He surely would have made a wonderful dad
One of the joys in life that he never had.
Today had he been alive he'd have been twenty three
Her son was a brave man none braver than he
She wept at his grave whilst through the streets of the town
The patriots did proudly parade up and down.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Farewell To
Farewell to the young women I used to know
When I was a younger man decades ago
Some of them are ageing grandmothers today
And some of them childless and single did stay.
Farewell to the first feelings of love I knew
Though the one that I loved to another was true
She did not know I loved her 'twas better that way
Since I've always found words like 'I love you' so hard for to say.
Farewell to my childhood friends the girls and the boys
We had fun together and we played with our toys
We grew up too quickly and got to know care
And we found out about life in the big World out there.
Farewell to the Town Park where we played football
An old memory fading that's nice to recall
Still in my flights of fancy the old Town I see
Though life in the old Town goes on without me.
To the old stream that flowed by my old home a tearful farewell
And those old fields that will long outlive my doggerel
And on the leafy hedgerows in the prime of Spring
The songbirds of Nature did whistle and sing.
Farewell to the past since the past is long gone
And without me life in the old Townland goes on
But fond memories of my boyhood years with me remain
And I often go back down memory lane.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Like Unsung Heroes
'Tis of the unsung heroes I wish to hear
Their names in the newspapers never appear
They don't seek the praise and they don't seek the fame
They keep a low profile few know them by name.
Like the teenager who saved the young girl from the house fire
About him there is so much for to admire
To save someone else's life he did risk his own
Yet the anonymous hero remains as unknown.
Her parents wish to thank him the one they do not know
But for the deserved plaudits he has failed for to show
For to bask in the limelight does not seem his way
As an anonymous unsung hero he would prefer to stay.
I like unsung heroes though unsung they remain
From their acts of unselfishness and bravery they do not wish to gain
Like the teenage house fire hero he surely is brave
The life of a five year old girl he did save.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Elegy of a poet
I do not understand
as to why the people
are weeping,
crying,
mourning
and
to exhibit their sympathy
to match
or exceed with the compassion
of other in the same pursuit,
shedding the tears
for a poet
who died
writing poems
on everything
which even
the sun could not see
or imagine,
but could not
spell a few words
for whom
he lived,
he tried everything possible,
everything impossible
by making it possible,
and died
and
before the last collapse
entered the endevour
of writing poetry
on the walls of solitude
and confinement
leaving behind
the belief that
he might write
something
on his own epitaph
once everyone
pays the final tribute
and leaves the graveyard,
to show her that
he can write his own elegy,
an elegy of a poet
by the poet.
poem by Sandesh Shinde
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Rose Of London
She now lays in the cemetery though life for her was hell
And her life a tragic story though that story I must tell
She migrated to here from London in nineteen fifty two
When she was only twenty brown haired with eyes of blue.
She was known as Rose of London Rosemary was her name
A car accident in her early fifties had left her slightly lame
And in that tragic accident her husband Jim and their daughter died
Her happy life until then by cruel fate was destroyed.
Her husband Jim was fifty two and Ann their only child was twenty three
But Rosemary put her misfortune behind her and she overcame her tragedy
And she soldiered on bravely though her cross heavy to bear
Still the broken dreams of her life even time could not repair.
I often see her at the superstore she always wore the brightest clothes
Her silver hair and lovely face she did look like a rose
With her beautiful cockney accent she was cheerful and free of guile
And she would win the heart of Satan with the warmth of her smile.
In her battle with cancer poor Rose did not win through
Still she was a noble person and her equals all too few
Pre-deceased by her nearest and her dearest she battled on till the end
She was loved by many people and I miss her as a friend.
A kind hearted cockney lady and she wore the brightest clothes
She was known as Rose of London and she surely was a rose
She lost her nearest and her dearest and her's was a painful end
But she was admired by many and I loved her as a friend.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I'll Cry Silent Tears
I shall cry silent tears today
For a lady and her baby on the way
My heart, my soul want to scream in rage
There is no justice, in this age
So young and beautiful, near life's beginning
A murder so sad, with no one winning
Leaving alone in the world, a child of just two
Seeing her murder, being the only clue
I shall mourn her death today
She gave her heart and became his prey
Her love wasn't enough, her life he took
And her unborn baby, got him off the hook
So many lives savagely lost to domestic abuse
Most are behind closed doors, don’t make the news
So I’ll cry silent tears today
I didn’t know her, but I’ll cry anyway!
By Dogs4donna
© 2007 Dogs4donna (All rights reserved)
poem by Donna Nimmo
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Night….
Night
To the vampire is life
Another feeling to the husband and wife
Night
Is when the vagabond teens prefer
For promiscuity will occur
But mine,
A repeated elegy to be read
As contemplation cut a swathe through my head
Night
You have made me a grand old master
To prophesy melancholy ahead
Now my young shoulders can hold no longer
My old head.
Night
A period I reserve to cry
For I will see no one around to ask me why
At night
Sometimes when I cry
I forget that the day
Lies just a few hours away.
poem by Elorm Dogbo
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What is Life
Life is everywhere that you look,
Some people might say that life sucks,
While other people might say life is beautiful,
And is full of surprises, that are waiting to be discovered,
Life is whatever you think it may be,
Life is in you now and it shall forever always stay,
Life is the wind howling at you sideways,
Life is the winter, summer, spring, and fall,
Life is sad and life is lonely,
Life can be evil and Life is blunt,
Life is a true friend that never lies to you,
Life is all about you and how you treat it,
Life is what you make of it,
If you criticize life, then your criticizing yourself,
Its all up to you on whether you like it, or hate it,
I am life, you are life, we are life,
Life loves me and I love life back,
Life is you, so be careful on how you describe it,
Don’t base life off of what others say,
But base life off, of what you think it is,
Your words are stronger then others opinions,
So take those words and put them to use,
I am life, you are life, we are life!
poem by Dallas Hammond
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Treat Each Living Second As Your Last
When I was five how I wanted to be ten,
I just longed to be a young man,
My mind would wander now and then,
I wanted to be in the grown ups clan.
When I reached ten I thought of being twenty,
By then I'd be driving my car,
Time for the future, well I still had plenty,
Getting older was a distance to far.
Now I've hit twenty I've nothing to fear,
Time fades past me so slow,
I'm still a young man so I've nothing to fear
I've still got a long time to go.
Thirty years old and it's still not too bad,
I've a wife and children I love,
My health is good I love being a dad,
My life is truly a gift from above,
The big four zero has finally come,
I now watch, as my parents grow old,
The thought of that is making me feel numb,
As I know it cannot be controlled.
I'm now in my fifties my children have flown,
This life can be really strange,
Back when I was five I wish I had known,
Growing older you cannot exchange.
Be careful what you wish for it may come true,
Cherish life for it's far too short,
Enjoy what you have age you cannot subdue,
When you're young these facts you distort.
I'm now eighty years old how I wish I were five,
Hindsight's such a wonderful thing,
All those I loved dearly would still be alive,
I'd be thinking of what the future might bring.
You must live for today forget tomorrow,
Just be thankful for being alive,
Though there will be joy as well as sorrow,
It's how we cope that makes us all thrive.
Life is precious don't ever wish it away,
When it's gone it becomes part of the past,
Enjoy your years every wondrous day,
‘' Treat Each living Second As Your Last ‘'
The Meaning Of Life Is Unique To Us All
When I was five I wanted to be ten,
How I longed to be a young man,
My mind would wander every now and then,
I wanted to be in the grown ups clan.
When I reached ten I thought of being twenty,
By then I'd be driving my car,
Time for the future, well I still had plenty,
Getting older was a distance too far.
Now I've hit twenty I've nothing to fear,
Time goes past so very slow,
I'm still a young man so I've nothing to fear
I've still got a long time to go.
Thirty years old and it's still not too bad,
I've a wife and children I love,
My health is good I love being a Dad,
My life is a gift from above,
The big four zero has finally come,
I now watch, as my parents grow frail,
The thought of that is making me feel numb,
To prevent it should be our holy grail.
I'm now in my fifties my children have flown,
This life can be really quite strange,
Back when I was five I wish I had known,
Growing older you cannot exchange.
Be careful what you wish for it may come true,
Take your time for life is too short,
Enjoy every minute, age you cannot subdue,
When young the facts you distort.
I'm now in my eighties how I wish I were five,
My time here has just flown by,
All those I loved would still be alive,
Now their memories still make me cry.
The moral is don't wish your life away,
Treat each living second as your last,
Enjoy your years every glorious day,
For in the blink of an eye it has passed.
Scientists spend billions asking why we exist,
Look outside, what you see will enthrall,
It is solely for living is the point they've all missed,
‘‘ The Meaning Of Life Is Unique To Us All ‘'
Autumn
Thou burden of all songs the earth hath sung,
Thou retrospect in Time's reverted eyes,
Thou metaphor of everything that dies,
That dies ill-starred, or dies beloved and young
And therefore blest and wise,-
O be less beautiful, or be less brief,
Thou tragic splendour, strange, and full of fear!
In vain her pageant shall the Summer rear?
At thy mute signal, leaf by golden leaf,
Crumbles the gorgeous year.
Ah, ghostly as remembered mirth, the tale
Of Summer's bloom, the legend of the Spring!
And thou, too, flutterest an impatient wing,
Thou presence yet more fugitive and frail,
Thou most unbodied thing,
Whose very being is thy going hence,
And passage and departure all thy theme;
Whose life doth still a splendid dying seem,
And thou at height of thy magnificence
A figment and a dream.
Stilled is the virgin rapture that was June,
And cold is August's panting heart of fire;
And in the storm-dismantled forest-choir
For thine own elegy thy winds attune
Their wild and wizard lyre:
And poignant grows the charm of thy decay,
The pathos of thy beauty, and the sting,
Thou parable of greatness vanishing!
For me, thy woods of gold and skies of grey
With speech fantastic ring.
For me, to dreams resigned, there come and go,
'Twixt mountains draped and hooded night and morn,
Elusive notes in wandering wafture borne,
From undiscoverable lips that blow
An immaterial horn;
And spectral seem thy winter-boding trees,
Thy ruinous bowers and drifted foliage wet-
Past and Future in sad bridal met,
O voice of everything that perishes,
And soul of all regret!
poem by William Watson
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Master, I would like to see that mountain again
Remember the old happy days
But nowadays really a catastrophe
As I haven't seen a bird, butterfly or a flower at all.
Someone has snatched my precious spring.
Living with a life's almost a threat
And I know the life is so short,
But there is little more time to live.
So, please blow me few air to my lonely bedroom
Hardly I could breathe through my shattered windows
That goes into my defeated lungs.
Master, I want to see that mountain again
But this time I am not able to climb with this wearied soul.
At least I could kneel down beneath the mountain
And recite this Psalm for the pilgrims' welfare.
'May the road rise to meet you,
May the winds be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face
And the rains fall soft upon your fields.'
-Today in our Gospel St.Mark reminds us of that beautiful story of the healing of the blind man.I have heard this story about his healing in the past, but what touched me today was how loud he was in asking Jesus to heal him.-
From the desk of Padre Jose'.
October 25,2009
Saint Anthony Catholic Community.
Long Beach.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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