Simple, Seldom and Sad
Simple, seldom and sad
We are;
Alone on the Halibut Hills
Afar,
With sweet mad Expressions
Of old
Strangely beautiful
So we're told
By the Creatures that Move
In the sky
And Die
On the night when the Dead Trees
Prance and Cry.
Sensitive, seldom and sad -
Sensitive, seldom and sad -
Simple, seldom and sad
Are we
When we take our path
To the purple sea -
With mad, sweet Expressions
Of Yore,
Strangely beautiful,
Yea, and More
On the Night of all Nights
When the sky
Streams by
In rags, while the Dead Trees
Prance and Cry,
sensitive, seldom and sad -
sensitive, seldom and sad.
poem by Mervyn Peake
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Related quotes
Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken.
Jane Austen in Emma
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful girls are seldom happy, intelligent boys are seldom beautiful.
To be sensitive
As sensitive, I am neither tolerant nor patient.
As sensitive, I am neither neutral nor indifferent.
As sensitive, I am either a rose or a cactus.
Whose fault is it that I am sensitive?
24.05.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Afraid To Love
So seldom does she think of love
and seldom does she want to.
It isn't that she's cold or bad,
it's that she cannot hold you.
If she were to allow herself
to hunger for your kiss,
her heart would be like jelly
and many beats would miss.
So seldom she allows herself
this pleasure and this pain
for she would surely die for love
and cannot take the strain.
If you would promise faithfully
to be her true, true friend.
To comfort her and cherish her
and be there at her end.
But life is such a fickle beast
and even though she cares.
She cannot, no she dare not
offer love and be ensnared.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Laws too gentle are seldom obeyed; too severe, seldom executed.
quote by Benjamin Franklin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anger is seldom without argument but seldom with a good one.
quote by Lord Halifax
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fly Into This Night
First the high and then a low
Getting ero-mantic vertigo
In the rain then the drought
Thats what loving you is all about
Fly, fly into this night
And rectify my dreams
I, I love you more than life
Though seldom Im serene
Feel the cold in the heat
Im questioning my blind fidelity
Love is sweet love is tart
Loving you is a crime when were apart
Fly into this night
And still my fantasies
I love you more than life
Through seldom Im at peace
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seldom ‘Can't’
Seldom ‘can't,’
Seldom ‘don't’;
Never ‘shan't,’
Never ‘won't.’
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Black women, whose experience is unique, are seldom recognized as a particular social-cultural entity and are seldom thought to be important enough for serious scholarly consideration.
quote by Barbara Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The true blessing of spring
when the lark, the nightingale and thrush sing
is like the most sincere friends that seldom meet
or maybe each other seldom in goodbye greet
as it’s a seasonal thing which is reoccurring.
quote by by Gert Strydom
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The limerick packs laughs anatomical
Into space that is quite economical.
But the good ones I've seen
So seldom are clean -
And the clean ones so seldom are comical.
quote by by Roger Gordon
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As fathers commonly go, it is seldom a misfortune to be fatherless; and considering the general run of sons, as seldom a misfortune to be childless.
quote by Lord Chesterfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dead Love
Oh never weep for love that’s dead
Since love is seldom true
But changes his fashion from blue to red,
From brightest red to blue,
And love was born to an early death
And is so seldom true.
Then harbour no smile on your bonny face
To win the deepest sigh.
The fairest words on truest lips
Pass on and surely die,
And you will stand alone, my dear,
When wintry winds draw nigh.
Sweet, never weep for what cannot be,
For this God has not given.
If the merest dream of love were true
Then, sweet, we should be in heaven,
And this is only earth, my dear,
Where true love is not given.
poem by Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
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Never Deeply Appreciative
Seldom do transitions come,
With a subtlety elusive and delicate.
Some come like an eathquake,
That disturbs and shakes...
Those asleep to awaken.
Seldom does a shock,
Comes to prepare those aware of it...
To block and stop.
With an alternative...
To figure out in accepted procrastination.
And seldom is that which is rare,
Will await patiently for comparisons to make.
Like a love that is given with friendship.
With an existence given...
A disrespect to regard as one chooses.
Seldom do transitions come,
With a subtlety elusive and delicate.
Some come like an eathquake,
That disturbs and shakes...
Those asleep to awaken.
The existence of them given,
Has meaning and purpose.
To ignore the effect...
Is to be totally unconscious.
And those who are...
Totally unconscious,
Are never deeply appreciative of anything!
Only to compensate for their dissatisfactions...
With the aid of excuses to solicit and sell.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sores And Defects After Charles Bukowski Cause And Effect
Going through emotions' motions
the worst seldom die by the hands of others
often get off lightly,
rile those left behind
can seldom pick up the pieces,
sore, ask why so few
succeed in escaping
from
mental defects
Cause and Effect
The best often die by their own hand
just to get away,
and those left behind
can never quite understand
why anybody
would ever want to
get away
from
them:
(9 February 2010)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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It is because modern education is so seldom inspired by a great hope that it so seldom achieves great results. The wish to preserve the past rather that the hope of creating the future dominates the minds of those who control the teaching of the young.
quote by Bertrand Russell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nights Of Dusty Roads
Full moon like a lover... the memory
of nights on dusty roads... spent walking together.
Tears, come so quickly, run down your cheeks
like diverse journeys, destiny lays between us.
Dry up as we lose dated sight
of each other, without forgetting.
Two minds that seldom meet
two hearts that seldom beat, as one.
Events seldom as accepted seem
perfection is iconic illusion
heart gladdens at supposed touch.
Yet isolated incomplete segments
cannot stand upon themselves
fragment under examination.
Born to ease harsh reality
love inspired is born within.
Flowing pure and sweet
from within hidden walls everlasting
etching vast inspiring canyons
in our hearts and minds.
Turn the key in the door
shutting ourselves off from indifferent world.
If only we could lock the mind as easily
lock out pain thoughts that come unheeded.
Before my aspiring mind. Sentinels
standing stones of another time.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Home On The Range
Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day
Home, home on the range
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day
Oh give me a land where the bright diamond sand
Flows leisurely down the stream
Where the graceful white swan goes gliding along
Like a maid in a heavenly dream
Home, home on the range
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day
Oh often at night, when the heavens are bright
From the light of the glittering stars
Have I stood there amazed and asked as I gazed
If their glory exceeds that of ours
Home, home on the range
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day
song performed by by Nickel Creek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bluebell
The Bluebell is the sweetest flower
That waves in summer air :
Its blossoms have the mightiest power
To soothe my spirit's care.
There is a spell in purple heath
Too wildly, sadly dear ;
The violet has a fragrant breath,
But fragrance will not cheer,
The trees are bare, the sun is cold,
And seldom, seldom seen ;
The heavens have lost their zone of gold,
And earth her robe of green.
And ice upon the glancing stream
Has cast its sombre shade ;
And distant hills and valleys seem
In frozen mist arrayed.
The Bluebell cannot charm me now,
The heath has lost its bloom ;
The violets in the glen below,
They yield no sweet perfume.
But, though I mourn the sweet Bluebell,
'Tis better far away;
I know how fast my tears would swell
To see it smile to-day.
For, oh! when chill the sunbeams fall
Adown that dreary sky,
And gild yon dank and darkened wall
With transient brilliancy;
How do I weep, how do I pine
For the time of flowers to come,
And turn me from that fading shine,
To mourn the fields of home!
poem by Emily Brontë from Selections from the literary remains of Emily and Anne Brontë (1850)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Fire Within by Talile Ali
caught in the echo
of what was and could be
never discover
the best thats in me
always so cautious
seldom to do
trapped in the vision
all tatered and blue
times of a prison
lynched by the law
strange fruit has risen
with the paw paw
laugh loud as thunder
shatters the wall
poluted judgements
so seldom recalled
high in the weather
the wind has a yen
embracing the people
the fire within
Copyright © 2009
poem by Talile Ali
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