Song Of Noble Grief
Oh, noble grief of the suffering soul
That into free verse bursts out...
Would you perchance take comfort
In adorning the world with jewels?
Oh, noble grief in free verse,
Which sincerely sounds and resounds,
Will you ever move the feelings of men,
Or wither and die like the autumn leaves?
Oh, song worthy of noble grief...
Never rest! But with your twin,
Lamentation, sing out your suffering,
For time will be your consolation.
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Song Of Nobel Grief
Oh, noble grief of the suffering soul
That into free verse bursts out...
Would you perchance take comfort
In adorning the world with jewels?
Oh, noble grief in free verse,
Which sincerely sounds and resounds,
Will you ever move the feelings of men,
Or wither and die like the autumn leaves?
Oh, song worthy of noble grief...
Never rest! But with your twin,
Lamentation, sing out your suffering,
For time will be your consolation.
poem by Millosh Gjergj Nikolla
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wading Birds
Cranes and Herons fly in the twilight sky
A loon idles at a riverbank,
Full Moon peeps like a new coin to illuminate the dark side of life
And the ferryman shouts; 'Nobody wants to cross the river.'
* That both I and you have had to travel and trudge through the long round is owing to our not discovering, not penetrating the four truths.What four?
They are the noble truth of suffering, the noble truth of the origin of suffering, the noble truth of the cessation of suffering, and the noble truth of the way leading to the cessation of suffering. [The Buddha]
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I’ve Lost One Verse With Tinkling Lines
I’ve lost one verse
With tinkling lines,
I’ve lost a verse,
It’s somewhere else…
I sought the leaf,
But couldn’t find,
Even from the disc
It vanished.
I cried and cried
For that little verse,
In my soul it lay
Like a winged word,
It lay there
Like grief and anguish.
That bright and sincere thought –
That verse remained in the past.
I’m tired of grief and sorrow,
Sorrow has seized me at last…
24.04.2006
Translated from Georgian
poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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Beyond the grief.
It seems as if we are stalled by our grief,
unable to move away from it – and I wonder
if we will ever get over the loss of you. In time
they say we will, that one day we will finally be free
of the sadness that burdens our hearts, and we will dance
in our remembrance, and there will be no more tears.
But if that's true, I must admit I will miss the tears
when there is an eventual easing of the grief.
I am not as eager to begin the dance
of life without you, for the world has lost its wonder
for me, some of its shine - and being free
seems awfully relative - I suppose just like time.
I can still so clearly recall the last time
we were all together - the tears
we shared, even laughter, when you were set free
of this earthly pain - and even in our grief,
we were filled with such wonder
as we witnessed the end of life's dance.
When I was a little boy you used to let me dance
on the top of your shoes, moving in time
to the music on the radio. Is it any wonder
that music, to this day, brings tears
of joy, mingled with the ever-present grief,
which still has not set me completely free.
I now realize there is a cost to love; it's not free -
for when you love, you buy a ticket to the dance
of life - which comes with joy and pain, celebration and grief.
And if you have lived a long enough time,
as I have, even when the loss brings never ending tears,
with a broken heart, it's worth all of the pain, and it's no wonder
people love so fiercely - so much so that they cease to wonder
about the why, when or where - and now I realize that I am free
to love, and to lose, which will bring with it many tears.
But each tear is worth it - and seems to make the dance
more authentic. In the end, I will measure my time
by how much of it was filled with love, and with grief.
No longer will I wonder whether or not I should dance,
I will just be free, stepping in and out of time,
wearing my tears like a badge of honor as I move beyond the grief.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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The Triple Fool
I am two fools, I know,
For loving, and for saying so
In whining poetry;
But where's that wise man, that would not be I,
If she would not deny?
Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes
Do purge sea water's fretful salt away,
I thought, if I could draw my pains
Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay.
Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce,
For he tames it, that fetters it in verse.
But when I have done so,
Some man, his art and voice to show,
Doth set and sing my pain;
And, by delighting many, frees again
Grief, which verse did restrain.
To love and grief tribute of verse belongs,
But not of such as pleases when 'tis read.
Both are increasèd by such songs,
For both their triumphs so are published,
And I, which was two fools, do so grow three.
Who are a little wise, the best fools be.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A grief ago
'There is no grief
which time does not lessen
or soften' -
so said Cicero, a man so often right;
a Stoic, those for whom
all life presents a lesson
to be learned from,
and then, to move on from..
But I wonder about all this:
is grief ever lessened or softened?
Is it not, perhaps, overlaid
in our so various ways?
For some, grief framed and falsified
to ease that grief;
For some, like hyacinths and crocus bulbs,
left in a dark cupboard in the autumn of our grief
to respond to time, and
become at last
themselves?
gently, gently, the covers pulled
over the loving bed,
the true, the pure, the lovely painful grief,
the memory deep cherished,
gently, gently, folded
into the cupboards of the heart
there to be known, without the door disturbed
until the time - 'a grief ago' as Dylan wrote -
the cupboard opened only for love's sake
without grief...:
those carefully folded memories
brought out and loved
and lived a while...
not grief, not grief...but
the pure memory of grief
and behold,
life.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Voice Of The Noble
Let us heed to the voice of the noble
No matter however weak and feeble
Deserves to be carried all through the cable
Without keeping the message just on the table!
Voice of the noble cry for peace
Peace, multiplied peace all with ease
Curse of the world should surely cease
Look at the world as one and not in pliable piece!
Voice of peace is sure the soul of wisdom
Choice of the world is to reach God's kingdom
Where love and peace is bound to rule
Where faith and truth is every one's tool!
Voice of the noble seeks the world of peace
Noise of the wicked breeds the world of war
Peace indeed is the nature's choice
Peace indeed is the right man's voice!
Birds and trees sing for peace
Cruel and the wicked stink with strife.
The senseless inflicts war on nature
Least worried about grace of future
Nature revolts with quakes and storms
Millions suffer in pain and grief!
Let us heed to the voice of the noble
No matter however weak and feeble!
poem by Subbaraman N V
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Hope in Heaven's Day
Grief be mine, I ask you so,
If not for you, I wouldn't know,
How life once was and then be still,
How so precious, that death do steal.
Because that grief, won't go away,
Learn to let it have its way.
The link to love, a precious one,
Is met with grief and still not done.
The days do come, and nights do go,
Grief will stay as time is so.
And so a loved one passes on,
And grief comes in and carries on.
Does grief get better, I will ask,
It's hard to say, while at its task.
There is grief to help us cope,
There is God to give us hope.
Grief will surely go away,
On that glorious heaven's day.
But while its here, there's just one thing,
Pray our Lord, for peace he'll bring.
poem by Arlene Dery
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Lying In Grass
Is this everything now, the quick delusions of flowers,
And the down colors of the bright summer meadow,
The soft blue spread of heaven, the bees' song,
Is this everything only a god's
Groaning dream,
The cry of unconscious powers for deliverance?
The distant line of the mountain,
That beautifully and courageously rests in the blue,
Is this too only a convulsion,
Only the wild strain of fermenting nature,
Only grief, only agony, only meaningless fumbling,
Never resting, never a blessed movement?
No! Leave me alone, you impure dream
Of the world in suffering!
The dance of tiny insects cradles you in an evening radiance,
The bird's cry cradles you,
A breath of wind cools my forehead
With consolation.
Leave me alone, you unendurably old human grief!
Let it all be pain.
Let it all be suffering, let it be wretched-
But not this one sweet hour in the summer,
And not the fragrance of the red clover,
And not the deep tender pleasure
In my soul.
Translated by James Wright
Submitted by Holt
poem by Hermann Hesse
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Be noble and able
Be able, being noble.
You can do something.
Be noble, being able.
You can do good things.
An able but not a noble
And a noble but not an able,
Are both unwanted elements,
Just like a soul-less body
Or a body-less soul.
13.07.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Noble life demands a noble architecture for noble uses of noble men. Lack of culture means what it has always meant: ignoble civilization and therefore imminent downfall.
quote by Frank Lloyd Wright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Noble life demands a noble architecture for noble uses of noble men. Lack of culture means what it has always meant ignoble civilization and therefore imminent downfall.
quote by Frank Lloyd Wright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fragments - Lines 0183 - 0192
Among rams and asses and horses, Kyrnos, we look for those
Of noble breeding, and a man wants them to mate
From worthy stock. Yet a noble man does not mind marrying
A base woman of base birth if she brings him money in abundance,
Nor does a woman shrink from becoming the wife of a base man
With wealth; she prefers a rich husband to a worthy one.
Money is what they honor; the noble weds a base man's daughter,
The base a worthy man's: wealth mixes stock.
Thus do not be amazed, son of Polypaos, that the citizen's stock
Is growing feeble, for what is noble is being mixed with what is base.
Through The Lens Of Grief Song
Throught the lens of grief
I can see that you are suffering
With your grief
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Noble Surfer
Noble (aint joshin)
Surfer (aint joshin)
Hes the number one man (hes movin)
The surfers call him noble
And thats just what he is
Hes dedicated to the mighty sea
Surfin night and day
Never twice in one spot
Hes somethin you and I would like to be
Noble (aint joshin)
Surfer (aint joshin)
Hes the number one man (hes movin)
Noble (hes movin)
Noble (aint joshin)
Surfer (aint joshin)
Hes the number one man (hes movin)
Hes not afraid of body whop
From ten feet or more
He never backs away from a swell
Hurachis on his feet
Bushy hair on his head
And where hes going hed never tell
Noble (aint joshin)
Surfer (aint joshin)
Hes the number one man (hes movin)
Noble (hes movin)
Noble (aint joshin)
Surfer (aint joshin)
Hes the number one man (hes movin)
Noble (aint joshin)
Surfer (aint joshin)
Hes the number one man (hes movin)
Noble (hes movin)
Noble (aint joshin)
Surfer (aint joshin)
Hes the number one man (hes movin)
A surfin cassanova
With his customized board
A woody and his dirty white jeans
He takes his choice of honeys
Up and down the coast
The finest surfer yet to make the scene
Noble (aint joshin)
Surfer (aint joshin)
Hes the number one man (hes movin)
Noble (hes movin)
Noble (aint joshin)
Surfer (aint joshin)
Hes the number one man (hes movin)
Noble (hes movin)
Noble (aint joshin)
Surfer (aint joshin)
Hes the number one man (hes movin)
Noble (hes movin)
Noble (aint joshin)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Free verse
I want to write always in free verse
In free verse there is no pressure.
I do not want to keep any goal
I really do not want any roll
I also do not want to play any role.
I want to see this earth free from hunger
Free from poverty and I do not want to
keep anybody within an artificial boundary.
I want to write always in free verse
I want to move freely from place to place
To see people in various glaze.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Emotional Scavenger
And now in the cold light of day,
Grief casts her shadows long,
and grey
Draining warmth & blinding me
To the glorious hope
Of day;
Grief would steal my soul and hide it
In blackness,
Whispering reminders
Of pain,
And loss,
And death…
Mocking hope's insistence,
Spurning love's comfort;
Grief watches,
Expectant, she waits…
Grief, scavenger of emotions,
Is ever hopeful.
poem by Jinge Norvall
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Tutorial in grief
A lesson in grief
I struggle to find
Inside my mind
Thoughts that will offer
Some crumb of comfort
Black calligraphy,
Brave, brush strokes
Across the blinding stab of pain
That comes with loss
Ah, but then there is darkness.
Impenetrable, like none you imagined
And you will put every effort
Into figuring the exit route.
Wasted effort.
Sit my friend.
Rest, and in its own time,
It comes.
Grief has its own timescales, agenda
You will wish without ending
For a last day, an hour, a minute.
Yet if you search inside yourself
You will know,
Exactly, to the word,
Everything you would both have said.
It is not for you to deal with grief.
For grief will deal with you
There's Solace In Verse
A song's but a way of telling a story,
It can be about love even sadness or glory,
Whatever the lyrics you can guarantee,
By singing those words you can set yourself free.
While listening to music be it night or day,
The song takes you over you get carried away
Before you know it you are singing along,
You become that person, the singer of that song.
When you're writing the lyrics ensure they're kept terse,
For that's when you will find,
‘' There's Solace In Verse ''
That's the wonder of music regardless of type,
It makes you feel good you believe all the hype,
A song can lift you when you're feeling grief,
If you need cheering up it will bring you relief.
That's the wonder of music for like it or not,
It stirs up a feeling which just cannot be bought,
Next time you feel down if you just want to cry,
Put on some music go on give it a try.
Before you know it those thoughts will disperse,
Very soon you'll believe,
‘' There's Solace In Verse ''
So become a believer play your favourite song,
If you don't feel the vibes you can say I was wrong,
But that won't happen for I know that it's true,
When you play the right music it will happen to you.
From that special feeling you will not want to hide,
It will change your perspective; it can turn the tide,
Before you know it your life has unfurled,
You'll be back to your best, on top of the world.
In the lyrics and music you will soon immerse,
It's then you'll have learned,
‘‘ There's Solace In Verse ‘'
My World Is
My world
My world changed me, now for the perfect grief there need not be,
The world saw my suffering, yet it keep’s moving,
It’s immutability you can never judge,
Yet whilst Iam learning only a creature is made of me,
What do I have to say of the world,
How can you explain in time’s like these my world is not mine, till I dream of me,
For dreams made a man, for my soul and my world I got to make a move, for this world is on the run,
The competition so high well no man give’s a damn, every one on the rum to get more of it’s weight.
poem by Maxim Muyu
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