Solemn Truth
It's a sad solemn truth
This sad solemn lie.
Just taken from our youth
Was it worth it to try?
We can precieve what we need.
If what we want doesn't get in our way.
But it always will, always will.
It's a sad solemn truth
This sad solemn life
Just taken from our world
Was it worth the strife?
We can precieve what's believed.
Or you can read into this solemn life
But you never will, never will...
poem by Moth Harris
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Marry Me
He
Marry me marry me
Come and share my destiny
Pair with me
Dare with me
Stand up and declare with me
For we are now
Man and wife
Solemn vow
Made for life
I want you right there with me
Marry me
She
Marry me marry me
Come and share the best in me
Care with me
Bear with me
Raise another heir with me
For we are now
Ef = objr-vol3.html>oscar brown jrs set free -- volume three--married
Solemn vow
Throughout life
Home is where you carry me
Marry me
Both
We are now man and wife
Solemn vow
Made for life
Lovingly
Prayerfully
Marry me
Marry me
Marry me
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is a Solemn Wind Tonight
There is a solemn wind to-night
That sings of solemn rain;
The trees that have been quiet so long
Flutter and start again.
The slender trees, the heavy trees,
The fruit trees laden and proud,
Lift up their branches to the wind
That cries to them so loud.
The little bushes and the plants
Bow to the solemn sound,
And every tiniest blade of grass
Shakes on the quiet ground.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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A serious writer is not to be confounded with a solemn writer. A serious writer may be a hawk or a buzzard or even a popinjay, but a solemn writer is always a bloody owl.
quote by Ernest Hemingway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But No More
The time is now or never
The crashing is coming near
The delphi is on the corner
And he whispers in your ear
It used to be men could be solemn even while laughing
And laughter could be heard shore to shore
But no more
Now all you hear is crying
Cause no one's on the phone
Your feet are just now freezing over
You know that you are here all alone
It used to be men could be solemn even while laughing
And laughter could be heard shore to shore
But no more
When I think of friends and places
Things we wanted, hoped we'd be
All that's left is fading traces
Memories of what use to be
Hear their laughter, see their shadows
Feel the darkness, see the light
We had lit all but lost so quickly
We think we won but we lost the fight
But it's all the same to me
I've seen all I want to see
First they laugh at you
Then they cry
Say they'll always be there
Then they die
So alone yet so alive
It used to be men could be solemn even while laughing
And laughter could be heard shore to shore
But no more
song performed by by Zebra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memo Form The Mad Artist
It seems in my pensive solemn tone
I sit here quietly waiting for death
The wine does not ease my sorrow
Nor my remorseful thoughts which play
No there no silencing them it seems
Death it appears to be a career move
In death an artist is revered raised aloft
Perhaps the guilt of those around them
Darkling little thoughts are these
In this pensive solemn tone
Which sought some celebration
Passionate little soul it once were
Now embittered and distraught
Unequipped with the tools to face tomorrow
Surrenders to the night to sleep
In the hope of a dying sleep
The evil frightening idea is there
And around the cell is echoes
To be kept within a cage imprisoned
Sours the artists rage and tone
In all its solemn toll
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Early Works - Good Luck?
Here I sit in solemn repose
while some old bag looks down her nose
words echo around me
and I begin to snort and wheeze
like a bull ready to charge,
but I must be calm.
They talk in riddles
to confuse and fiddle
then I feel my good luck charm in my hand.
My aim is steady,
my shot is sure
and I return to my solemn repose, a
s the old bag looks cross-eyed
at my lucky charm stuck up her nose.
There is chaos everywhere
no one knows what to do,
I still sit in solemn repose
and the old bag is still cross-eyed
looking down her nose.
There is nothing they can do
and the case is dropped, wow, wow.
The old bag goes to hospital ho, ho
my lucky charm still up her nose.
The sun comes up in the morning
and I am still free as a bird.
Free as a bird, the word.
The air smells like dog muck
something you trod in to bring you luck!
10 October 2002
poem by David Harris
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A Christmas Hymn
IT was the calm and silent night!
Seven hundred years and fifty-three
Had Rome been growing up to might,
And now was Queen of land and sea.
No sound was heard of clashing wars;
Peace brooded o’er the hush’d domain;
Apollo, Pallas, Jove and Mars,
Held undisturb’d their ancient reign,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago.
’T was in the calm and silent night!
The senator of haughty Rome
Impatient urged his chariot’s flight,
From lordly revel rolling home.
Triumphal arches gleaming swell
His breast with thoughts of boundless sway;
What reck’d the Roman what befell
A paltry province far away,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago!
Within that province far away
Went plodding home a weary boor:
A streak of light before him lay,
Fall’n through a half-shut stable door
Across his path. He pass’d—for nought
Told what was going on within;
How keen the stars! his only thought;
The air how calm and cold and thin,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago!
O strange indifference!—low and high
Drows’d over common joys and cares:
The earth was still—but knew not why;
The world was listening—unawares.
How calm a moment may precede
One that shall thrill the world for ever!
To that still moment none would heed,
Man’s doom was link’d, no more to sever,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago.
It is the calm and solemn night!
A thousand bells ring out, and throw
Their joyous peals abroad, and smite
The darkness, charm’d and holy now.
The night that erst no name had worn,
To it a happy name is given;
For in that stable lay new-born
The peaceful Prince of Earth and Heaven,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago.
poem by Alfred Domett
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0314 Executive Decision
‘Look! now briefly, mortal living head -
As severed from thy now so lifeless limbs
In brief and, who knows, truthful, godly view,
So solemn, oncely, rare - that fleshly instrument
That thou hath used, misused…
And learn this last of life’s live lessons, quick and dread
In these few seconds of a living death…’
So Dean John Donne might have wrung out
that detail, had he known it – tolled
his solemn, tortured, feargod, ringing knell
- had he but known this ‘metaphysical’ quaint fact:
that, when the executioner’s sharp axeblade
slices through your neck with such finality,
the head maintains its human faculties
for eight brief seconds after body falls;
the executioner, it’s said, with great formality, then
takes hold that still-life head by its warm hair,
and turns it round with all solemnity,
to gaze its last repentence or regret
upon its frail accomplice on life’s way;
the gathered audience awed to silent, ice-cold heart..
last freeze-frame photo of an undeveloped film.
This solemn final courtesy of soul to soul
I’ll leave to metaphysicals, to speak life whole.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Pussy Sugar
I can taste the wreckage
Of dismembered dreams
Ghostly disciple, nothing as it seems
I will follow you until this dark cloud recedes
Pain of another, heal this I plead
My heart still bleeds for you
[chorus]
Take the long way home
My heart still bleeds for you
Solemn times stain us like
The blood of all that's unknown
This cursed you the worst
Give me your love
Solemn times stain us like
The blood of all that's unknown
song performed by by Kittie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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By The Bivouac's Fitful Flame
BY the bivouac's fitful flame,
A procession winding around me, solemn and sweet and slow;--but first
I note,
The tents of the sleeping army, the fields' and woods' dim outline,
The darkness, lit by spots of kindled fire--the silence;
Like a phantom far or near an occasional figure moving;
The shrubs and trees, (as I lift my eyes they seem to be stealthily
watching me;)
While wind in procession thoughts, O tender and wondrous thoughts,
Of life and death--of home and the past and loved, and of those that
are far away;
A solemn and slow procession there as I sit on the ground,
By the bivouac's fitful flame. 10
poem by Walt Whitman
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I tell you the solemn truth, that the doctrine of the Trinity is not so difficult to accept for a working proposition as any one of the axioms of physics.
quote by Henry Brooks Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Each has its lesson; for our dreams in sooth, come they in shape of demons, gods, or elves, are allegories with deep hearts of truth that tell us solemn secrets of ourselves.
quote by Henry Timrod
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From Above
To see absolute,
To live absolute,
See solemn,
Live solemn,
Live today,
Die today,
Today to live,
Today to die,
Remember the day,
And just fade away.
poem by Daniel Yetman
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Hymn 35 part 2
Truth, sincerity, etc.
Phil. 4:8.
Let those who bear the Christian name
Their holy vows fulfil;
The saints, the followers of the Lamb,
Are men of honor still.
True to the solemn oaths they take,
Though to their hurt they swear;
Constant and just to all they speak,
For God and angels hear.
Still with their lips their hearts agree,
Nor flatt'ring words devise;
They know the God of truth can see
Through every false disguise.
They hate th' appearance of a lie
In all the shapes it wears;
They live in truth, and when they die,
Eternal life is theirs.
While hypocrites and liars fly
Before the Judge's frown,
His faithful friends, who fear a lie,
Receive th' immortal crown.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Venetian Life
1
The meaning of somber and barren
Venetian life is clear to me:
Now she looks into a decrepit blue glass
With a cool smile.
2
Refined air. Blue veins of skin.
White snow. Green brocade.
They are all placed on cypress stretchers,
Taken warm and drowsy from a cape.
3
And the candles burn, burn in baskets,
As if a pigeon had flown into the shrine.
At the theater and the solemn council,
A man is dying.
4
Because there is no salvation from love and fear,
Saturn's ring is heavier than platinum,
The block draped with black velvet,
And a beautiful face.
5
Your headdress is heavy, Venezia,
In the cypress mirror frame.
Your air is faceted. In the bedroom,
The blue mountains of decrepit glass dissolve.
6
Only in her hands are the rose and the hourglass --
Green Adriatic, forgive me.
Why are you silent, Venetienne,
How can I escape this solemn death.
7
Black Hesper glimmers in the mirror.
Everything passes, the truth is dark.
A man is born, a pearl dies.
And Susannah has to wait for the elders.
poem by Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
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Way Wide Word (Food for the mortal soul 2)
If there’s anything worth keeping
In the entirety of our lives
That is our family
Anything more
Is just a hustle
We’ll, if you got a circle of friends,
And some material possessions,
Take them as an added bonus
For in the end
It’s just our family that remains
Through think and thin
Better or worse
Just like in the old solemn promise
Next to God, a family stays 'till the end!
poem by Edgar Rendon Eslit
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A Simple World
one poem
read by one person
one day
one enlightenment
one moment
one solemn day
of the funeral
one death
one spectator
one tear
and then the most exciting part:
forgetting.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Walking Around Boudha
Look at the spire
That has those tranquil eyes.
You see a sky
Wide, wide and wide.
The sky is as elsewhere
Or it's not that elsewhere lies
Or it's not a sky
But the reflection of the eyes.
The blue width is solemn
With solemn Boudha underneath.
The marketplace goes on
With bargain for gifts.
The white floors with steps upward
Take me closer to the sky bright.
The eyes fetch bits of joys
From the blue of the height.
I make another move around
To have a view just once more
Guiding my new new friends,
Curious about the temple's core.
Some friends are with me;
Some are lost in shops.
The sky and Boudha smile at me
With a gift of great hopes.
The sky is the Boudha eyes
The eyes are what my heart needs.
They promise me the greatest
Peace, peace and peace.
poem by Atul Pokharel
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Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet XVIII
Nor were the rest astonished. Even he,
Natalia's lord, in all complacent grace
Looked on approving of her act when she
Stepped forward with her face to Adrian's face,
And touched his lips and told him of the truth
How all was ended now of her old life,
With the sad barrier that had marred their youth:
Husband no longer and no longer wife,
Natalia had grown free. Then the proud lover
Gave thanks to God and took her arm in his,
Fearless how now their love they should discover
To any anger of suspicious eyes,
And led her forth his bride before them all
With solemn music to the banquet--hall.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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A PÆan
How shall the burial rite be read?
The solemn song be sung ?
The requiem for the loveliest dead,
That ever died so young?
II.
Her friends are gazing on her,
And on her gaudy bier,
And weep ! - oh! to dishonor
Dead beauty with a tear!
III.
They loved her for her wealth -
And they hated her for her pride -
But she grew in feeble health,
And they love her - that she died.
IV.
They tell me (while they speak
Of her 'costly broider'd pall')
That my voice is growing weak -
That I should not sing at all -
V.
Or that my tone should be
Tun'd to such solemn song
So mournfully - so mournfully,
That the dead may feel no wrong.
VI.
But she is gone above,
With young Hope at her side,
And I am drunk with love
Of the dead, who is my bride. -
VII.
Of the dead - dead who lies
All perfum'd there,
With the death upon her eyes,
And the life upon her hair.
VIII.
Thus on the coffin loud and long
I strike - the murmur sent
Through the grey chambers to my song,
Shall be the accompaniment.
IX.
Thou died'st in thy life's June -
But thou did'st not die too fair:
Thou did'st not die too soon,
Nor with too calm an air.
X.
From more than fiends on earth,
Thy life and love are riven,
To join the untainted mirth
Of more than thrones in heaven -
XII.
Therefore, to thee this night
I will no requiem raise,
But waft thee on thy flight,
With a Pæan of old days.
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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