Lonely Death
my room is my pride
Where I cried
sitting on my bed
till I died
poem by Katelin Offord Harper
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Born with Pride
Born with pride
When she was born,
She never cried
Born with dreams
Pretty eyes open wide
Born without tears
No lies to seek or hide
Born without fears,
On her beautiful little mind
Born to live
to love to give
To suffer to loose
Everything
Born with pride
Died in vain
Agony and pain
Hurt and shame
The lady had died
Her baby was born
With no pride
And with nothing
On his side
poem by Mitwaly Osman
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How many times has God died for me?
HOW MANY TIMES HAS GOD DIED FOR ME?
How many times has God died for me?
Yes, he’s died
And time and time again
As I’ve written in my book
How many times has God died for me?
How many times has God died for me?
A useful if cryptic phrase
Nietzsche coined in the 19th century
“When Zarathustra was alone, however,
he said to his heart:
'Could it be possible!
This old saint in the forest
hath not yet heard of it,
that God is dead! '
How many times has God died for me?
Each time I’ve had a paradigm shift
In my theological perspective
The God I had died and was replaced
Not by no God but a new God
How many times has God died for me?
A new God but still my God
The product of my heart and my head
A bit less Trinitarian
A bit closer to my own self
How many times has God died for me?
Now he’s not up there nor out there
But in there, a personal creation
Adaptable and changing with circumstances
According to my living, according to my reading.
How many times has God died for me?
I have no room for a God who is exclusive
I have no room for a God who is dogmatic
I have no room for a God, who is sexist,
Racist, anti-gay and British.
How many times has God died for me?
Yes God, my God, needed to die
And be reborn, reinvented
In a more user-friendly package.
So to make God more like me is to make God more PC!
How many times has God died for me?
Till God has become indistinguishable from me
God close to me, God in me
An undying God-sense
A God made to fit every circumstance
A God made to fit every mood
That God will never die for me
Even when I die I pray he will accompany me
The undying God
Who never died on Calvary
Who never died with Nietzsche.
©2009
James Hart
poem by James Hart
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When Bessie Died
If from your own the dimpled hands had slipped,
And ne'er would nestle in your palm again;
If the white feet into the grave had tripped--'
When Bessie died--
We braided the brown hair, and tied
It just as her own little hands
Had fastened back the silken strands
A thousand times-- the crimson bit
Of ribbon woven into it
That she had worn with childish pride--
Smoothed down the dainty bow-- and cried
When Bessie died.
When Bessie died--
We drew the nursery blinds aside,
And as the morning in the room
Burst like a primrose into bloom,
Her pet canary's cage we hung
Where she might hear him when he sung--
And yet not any note he tried,
Though she lay listening folded-eyed.
When Bessie died--
We writhed in prayer unsatisfied:
We begged of God, and He did smile
In silence on us all the while;
And we did see Him, through our tears,
Enfolding that fair form of hers,
She laughing back against His love
The kisses had nothing of--
And death to us He still denied,
When Bessie died--
When Bessie died.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Old Town Types No. 7
Well I remember him - Big Jack Herrington;
Big Jack, the lumper, tanned and honest-eyed,
The clean, straight limbs of him,
The strength in those limbs of him
Strength that was the end of him, and once had been his pride:
Big Jack Herrington, toiling up the stack,
Hefting up the wheat sacks on his mighty back.
One year, two years he labored when the wheat came;
Three years, four years, in the grimy heat,
Toiling up the planks there
The crazy, narrow planks there.
Folk said, 'A wonder! Why, there's nothing got him beat!'
Never had he faltered beneath a heavy bag
Big, Jack, the lumper, never known to sag.
For five years, for big pay he larbored there.
'Ten bob a day!' they said. 'Jack's the boy to score.'
And then came the end of him
A false step, and the end of him;
And Big Jack, the lumper, he toiled no more.
Twisted now and broken - his body and his pride,
Big Jack lingered on, a cripple till he died.
Old Jack Herrington, sitting in the bar-room,
Hoping for a kind friend, waiting for a 'shout.'
Men said, 'Remember him?'
Course I remember him.
Best about the stock yard till his strength gave out.
Booze never beat him till that tumble turned him queer....
Hey! Old Jack, there! Have another beer?'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Sitting In My Room
Sitting in my room
Record player on
Sitting in my room
humming a sickening tune
Sitting in my room
Something to do soon
We know what we think of them
the problems just keep piling in
They got complains about everything
It's us against them
It's us against them
It's us against them
They just wanna worry
that's not what any kid
should have to do
They just wanna be so lame
Maybe they should
try and sniff some glue
song performed by by Ramones from Pleasant Dreams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Throughout This Short Life
Throughout this short life
We always thought about ourselves.
Never about the ones who went under the knife,
Nor about the ones who have no wealth.
Through the times tide,
We always ran for our materialistic needs,
Trying to shape out our worthless pride,
Never worked hard for a single good deed.
Never saw for the ones that cried,
Wants that never end.
Even if someone died,
It’s our pride that we want to defend.
poem by ManmeetSingh Boyal
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Ignorance Has Died
Why are they so gloomy?
Sitting and dressed as if for mourning?
'They have been there for a few days,
Sitting in a vigil.
Praying over the demise of ignorance.'
LOL...
You can not be serious.
Why don't you tell them,
Ignorance has yet to pass.
'Are you kidding?
Do you realize how long it took me,
To devise some kind of a plan...
That would keep them quiet.'
So how long you think they will sit like that?
'I don't know.
I paid some kids a few dollars,
If for two weeks they would walk up and down the streets...
Carrying school books and talking loudly,
About their Math and English classes.
I'm on a roll,
So I'm pulling out all stops to see what happens next.'
But it is still Summer.
All the kids are on vacation.
'When I told those children sitting in that room,
That 'ignorance' has died.
I was joking.
I thought they knew it was a joke.
They have been sitting like that for at least two days.'
And that's why you pay the other kids?
'Yeah.
Do you know how much I've spent on cellphones,
Video games, iPods and 3-D Tv's?
To get those kids nagging off my back.
And all I had to say...
Was 'ignorance' has died? '
I don't believe it!
'You?
I've been trying to find something totally ridiculous to say,
To get them to clean up their rooms.
I'm glad I don't drink or smoke crack.
I don't believe it either.
But you are my witness.'
And all you said was 'ignorance' has died?
'I swear to you.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My dear Kitty
That day I found you
That day I became blue
The day I was balling
the day my heart was falling
That day you was leaving
Was my first day of grieving
That day you looked me in the eyes
Was the day I heard your cries
The day you died
Was the first time I cried
The day I had to bury you
It was the hardest thing to let go of you.
That day I screamed dont die
Was the day I left you lie....
That day the dog bite you
was the day I almost killed him
That day you died.
Was not the last day I cried
The day God had set for you
Was the day I will never forget who,
That day I let you out,
was the day I found out
How much I regret it,
For I must admit
I miss you sooo,
That Its jus to hard to show.
That day you died
Was not the first or last time I cried!
poem by Jade Smith
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Sitting In My Hotel
If my friends could see me now, driving round just like a film star,
In a chauffeur driven jam jar, they would laugh.
They would all be saying that its not really me,
They would all be asking who Im trying to be.
If my friends could see me now,
Looking out my hotel window,
Dressed in satin strides and two-tone daisy roots,
If my friends could see me now I know they would smile.
Sitting in my hotel, hiding from the dramas of this great big world,
Seven stories high, looking at the world go by-y.
Sitting in my hotel room, thinking about the countryside and sunny days in june.
Trying to hide the gloom, sitting in my hotel room.
If my friends could see me now, dressing up in my bow-tie,
Prancing round the room like some outrageous poove,
They would tell me that Im just being used
They would ask me what Im trying to prove.
They would see me in my hotel,
Watching late shows till the morning,
Writing songs for old time vaudeville revues.
All my friends would ask me what its all leading to.
Sitting in my hotel, looking through the window at the people in the street,
Seven stories high looking at the world go by,
Sitting in my hotel, looking at the world outside.
If my friends could see me now they would try to understand me,
They would ask me what on earth Im trying to prove.
All my friends would ask me what its all leading to.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Morningside
Written by: neil diamond
Morningside
The old man died
And no one cried
They simply turned away
And when he died
He left a table made of nails and pride
And with his hands he carved these words inside
For my children
Morning light
Morning bright
I spent the night
With dreams that make you weep
Morning time
Wash away the sadness from these eyes of mine
For I recall the words the old man signed
For my children
And the legs were shaped with his hands
And the top made of oaken wood
And the children sat around this table
Touched with their laughter
Ah, and that was good
Morningside
An old man died
And no one cried
He surely died alone
And truth is sad
For not a child would claim the gift he had
The words he carved became his epitath
For my children
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I cried Today
I cried today...and not cuz ur gone but becuz i thought feelingz were strong
I cried today...and not by myself but wit that Keyshia Cole Song
I cried today...and didn't know what to do for the 1st time in my life
I cried today...It was worst pain then gettin shanked wit a knife
I cried today...about u and me, and where we go frm here
I cried today...wit so much PRIDe it was HARD to hold bak tears
I cried today...I wrote a poem I even rote a rhyme
I cried today...As if I weren't used to dis I cry all the time
I cried today...Thinking about the love that we once shared
I cried today...I cudn't see clearly..as if my vision's impaired
I cried today...And I really don't care how much they call me dumb
I cried today...cuz they dont know what it feels to be REALLY in love
I cried today...without a sound but, wit the reality in my mind
Tellin me I don't gotta cry TOday....cuz love will only TAKE TImE!
poem by Nesean Coombs
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So You Died
so you died!
when i heard,
i cried.
you were apple
of my eyes,
love of my life.
when you
left my side
i died.
i died
when you died.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Us & Them
Us, and them
And after all we're only ordinary men.
Me, and you.
God only knows it's noz what we would choose to do.
Forward he cried from the rear
and the front rank died.
And the general sat and the lines on the map
moved from side to side.
Black and blue
And who knows which is which and who is who.
Up and down.
But in the end it's only round and round.
Haven't you heard it's a battle of words
The poster bearer cried.
Listen son, said the man with the gun
There's room for you inside.
"I mean, they're not gunna kill ya, so if you give 'em a quick short,
sharp, shock, they won't do it again. Dig it? I mean he get off
lightly, 'cos I would've given him a thrashing - I only hit him once!
It was only a difference of opinion, but really...I mean good manners
don't cost nothing do they, eh?"
Down and out
It can't be helped but there's a lot of it about.
With, without.
And who'll deny it's what the fighting's all about?
Out of the way, it's a busy day
I've got things on my mind.
For the want of the price of tea and a slice
The old man died.
song performed by by Pink Floyd from Dark Side Of The Moon (1972)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your pride in a flag
Just a small part of this World of your Nation you brag
And you wave your patriotism in your National flag
If your team win the International game today
Your boss won't give you extra in your next week's pay.
You feel so indifferent to people from elsewhere
Remember there's a World called the big World out there
And united we stand and divided we fall
Those words apply to all Nations and to one and all.
Tonight in the bar-room you will drink till late
And with your pub friends today's win celebrate
A win for your Nation in such a big game
Though only the players involved in the victory will know of the fame
And the financial windfall to them that this victory will bring
And of their praises you and those like you do sing
And are the supporters of the losing team worse off than you
Your pride in a flag tell me that is not true?
For pride of their flag young men go to war
And in victory boast of how marvellous they are
And for pride of their flag far too many have died
And so much division created by pride.
poem by Francis Duggan
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If i Died Today
If idied today i would cry
i would cry for all the time i spent being sad
when i could have been smiling
if i died today i would weep
i would weep for all the love i never felt
when i was alive
If i died today i would be sad
sad that i never really got to feel special,
loved and cared for
If i died today it would break my heart
break my heart for all the times i have cried,
cried because i was in pain
if i died today i would be regretful
regretful for all for all the time wasted on vanity
and worrying what other people will think of me
if i died today i would forgive myself
forgive myself for being my best enemy
forgive myself for hating me so much
if i died today i would be devasted
devasted that i never really got to appreciate,
appreciate myself
if i died today i would feel lost because,
i have never really known
or found myself
if i died today i would miss me
i would miss me because i forgot all about mealong time ago
if i died to day i would cry for me.
poem by Elizabeth Jacqueline Mpanga
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Elegy
Too proud to die; broken and blind he died
The darkest way, and did not turn away,
A cold kind man brave in his narrow pride
On that darkest day, Oh, forever may
He lie lightly, at last, on the last, crossed
Hill, under the grass, in love, and there grow
Young among the long flocks, and never lie lost
Or still all the numberless days of his death, though
Above all he longed for his mother's breast
Which was rest and dust, and in the kind ground
The darkest justice of death, blind and unblessed.
Let him find no rest but be fathered and found,
I prayed in the crouching room, by his blind bed,
In the muted house, one minute before
Noon, and night, and light. the rivers of the dead
Veined his poor hand I held, and I saw
Through his unseeing eyes to the roots of the sea.
(An old tormented man three-quarters blind,
I am not too proud to cry that He and he
Will never never go out of my mind.
All his bones crying, and poor in all but pain,
Being innocent, he dreaded that he died
Hating his God, but what he was was plain:
An old kind man brave in his burning pride.
The sticks of the house were his; his books he owned.
Even as a baby he had never cried;
Nor did he now, save to his secret wound.
Out of his eyes I saw the last light glide.
Here among the liught of the lording sky
An old man is with me where I go
Walking in the meadows of his son's eye
On whom a world of ills came down like snow.
He cried as he died, fearing at last the spheres'
Last sound, the world going out without a breath:
Too proud to cry, too frail to check the tears,
And caught between two nights, blindness and death.
O deepest wound of all that he should die
On that darkest day. oh, he could hide
The tears out of his eyes, too proud to cry.
Until I die he will not leave my side.)
poem by Dylan Thomas
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What Do I Know About Beauty?
What do I know about beauty?
said the bum
I don't see beauty where I come from.
I've been lookin'
all over the place
but I can't see it,
not even a trace.
Is it beauty when you're poor?
Then don't give me anymore.
Is it beauty when you're cold?
Then it's beauty I behold.
Is it beauty when you're in pain?
Then take it back. Don't let it remain.
My beauty was taken from me
the minute I turned age three.
My mama died.
My Papa cried.
My Papa died
and then I cried.
What do I know about beauty?
cried the bum.
It must be around
'cause I hear children hum
as they pass me by
on the bench where I lie.
I wonder when I lie and see the sky
if that's where it is?
Then let me die.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Poem Without A Name
People died of hunger
Crime and rape
Bullets without escape
Many children cried
Before they died
The earth wired
Growing tiered
It cries out to me
Couldn't you see
Wouldn't you think
It hurts me
Out of fear
Out of pride
You build missiles
To ascend the skies
Investing in ammunition
But not in human compassion
The seed you sow
Is the plant you reep
It's full grown
Now the reeper weeps
poem by Roger Harkness
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Sonnet: The Man of Pride
O man of pride, do come down from your heights!
’Tis lonely sitting in a chair like that;
The dizziness could cause you sleepless nights;
Please condescend, come down to us to chat.
Pride kills a man before he truly dies;
Pride poisons minds in stealthily a style;
Pride generates in men just ‘pseudo-highs’,
And makes a man unfit to walk life’s mile.
Remember, all are human beings first;
Well treat others in humane ways, you can;
The heart of pride would like a dam-old, burst
The man with pride cannot be content, man!
Pride steals the energy to guide others,
And only serves to torment all brothers.
9-14-2001
poem by John Celes
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White Bird Of Texas
The last time I spoke to my aunt before she died
She was describing to me this incredible owl
That was sitting in a tree
It meant nothing to me
But it means a lot more now
Because Im waiting, Im waiting, Im waiting for the bird
Im waiting, Im ready, I know it is my turn
All those cigarettes, alcohol, this bodys through
Youre gone for sure when the bird comes for you
And the last time I spoke to my uncle before he died
It was the very same week, but one year before her
He was sitting alone in his study, on the phone
When a giant hawk flew by
Said, Im waiting, Im waiting, Im waiting for the bird,
I didnt expect to be noticed or heard.
Oh, elizabeth, help me, I cant find the room,
Youre gone for sure when the bird comes for you.
And, oh, it is scary
And, oh, it is cold to the bone
My bodys not ready for my mind to learn
I have just been consigned here to rot in the earth
Said, Im waiting, Im waiting, Im waiting for the bird,
It comes in and takes you away from this world.
Gate twenty-seven, I cant find the room.
Youre free to board now, theyre waiting for you.
Im waiting, Im waiting, Im waiting for the bird
Ive seen it three times now, theres nothing to learn
And dont be surprised if the skys bright and blue
And the white bird of texas comes barreling through
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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