Struggle Between.......? ? ? ? ? ? ?
I know a place
Where sun shall never die
Where I dared to tread
and rest beneath the sky………..
It's here that I shall spend my days
and write legends of mine…..
Until the …….day of annihilation……..
But soon this sun shall set
and endless night shall soon forget
that ever light did once possess
this frozen waste of cold.
Eternal dusk shall end my sight
the epic war of sun and night……
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Related quotes
What Is It To Waste A Night?
WHAT IS IT TO WASTE A NIGHT?
What is it to waste a night
When I have wasted years?
Why worry now so close to the end
Hasn’t it all been a waste?
Won’t it all be a waste one day
No matter how I play the game
Of seeking to make my name eternal?
But this is this night and no other
And I writing this now
Am redeeming it from ‘waste’
And fooling myself for one more day
‘It has not been a waste nothing is a waste
when I can write a real poem now.’
I
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Evening's Dusk
Evening’s dusk, eerie forebodings,
Making one feel so insecure,
Blotting out distance, shapes of things,
Creating a scene, too obscure,
Shadows that hide the strange unknown,
Lurking when you are out alone.
Evening’s dusk creeps across the sky,
Twelve hours of night has just begun.
Moon hanging motionless up high,
Reflecting light, from earth’s own sun,
Lighting darkness with borrowed rays,
Lifting the black in many ways.
Evening’s dusk, rest for man, not beast,
Off to our homes, we go to rest,
All the days noise has slowly, ceased,
Animals though are on a quest,
For their nuptials they find at night,
When humans are well out of sight.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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What To Do With An Eternal Soul?
God is eternal
the same
yesterday today tomorrow
we are eternal also
never forget
we still possess
an immortal soul
therefore
what
will you do
with this life?
Love thy neighbour
as thyself
and never forget
it is better
to give
than to receive
we are eternal
also
and as we give
so shall we receive
life is too short
to waste
in bitterness
anger regret
try show
a little kindness
be a light
in godless darkness
shine a light
for those lost at sea
you were made
in God’s image
love covers
a multitude of sin
love for others
is a good place to begin
embrace the
image of God
aspire to perfection
let it be your rod.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Frozen
Frozen
By: Adam M. Snow
Memories frozen and gone,
like sands in broken time,
'gainst the blackest of dawn,
yet cold with no love sublime.
To be alone in ice of despair,
with hearts cold and frozen.
There's nothing left to bear,
for all who are chosen.
Like frost in the wind,
chilling a lonely being,
leaving nothing to mend,
like a ghost without seeing.
Dreams now cold like ice,
falling to pieces,
not once but twice,
as the days decreases.
What else is there to know,
with everything oh so cool?
Like being ghost in the snow,
and you being the fool.
All's now cold like a winter's night,
like little breezes dusk and shiver,
and with unpleasant delight,
with fear all is quiver.
Staring now out a hoar frost window,
alone, cold and wilted,
with your sufferings and woe,
waiting to strike you dead.
All's now cold hearted,
like frozen in ice,
as all's departed,
and you're the sacrifice.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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There is a land (cavatina)
There is a land of endless light, where night
never does come,
where spring and summer boundless stays in that
eternal home,
where love and delight only true joys bring,
where no fears roam;
in that bright place that brings eternal rest,
there is a God, that selfless loves me best.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Epic Night Elipse O' Light
epic night
with a spark of white
a whimper
then silence
reflections
lost in thought
lost in time
inhuman
back to the start
epic night
new to sin
end in sight
now to begin 7 days in.
poem by Mitch King
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Between the Now and Then
Upon horizon, night to day ~
there between the now and then,
I often pause along the way,
to tiptoe through the moonlit glen ~
or perhaps take in sun's light,
night to day ~ day to night.
Upon horizon, day to day ~
there between the then and now,
as seasons grow along the way,
to crease the face of timely brow ~
or perhaps steal time away,
day to day ~ day to day.
Upon horizon, day to night ~
there between the now and then,
I stand beneath my autumn light,
bereft as memory calls again ~
to pain the heart with bygone sight,
Night to day ~ day to night.
Upon horizon, night to night ~
there between the then and now,
I know that winter casts its sight,
on one last leaf that will not bow ~
to frost within its golden sight,
night to night ~ night to night.
Upon horizon, night to day ~
there between the now and then,
I know my spring will fade away,
and summer's soft remember when
will echo gently autumn's way ~
day to night ~ night to day....
Winter's near ~ Winter's near......
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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Pêcheresse
Down the long quay the slow boats glide,
While here and there a house looms white
Against the gloom of the waterside,
And some high window throws a light
As they sail out into the night.
At dawn they will bring in again
To women knitting on the quay
Who wait for him, their man of men;
I stand with them, and watch the sea
Which may have taken mine from me.
Just so the long days come and go.
The nights, ma Doué! the nights are cold!
Our Lady's heart is as frozen snow,
Since this one sin I have not told;
And I shall die or perhaps grow old
Before he comes. The foreign ships
Bring many a one of face and name
As strange as his, to buy your lips,
A gold piece for a scarlet shame
Like mine. But mine was not the same.
One night was ours, one short grey day
Of sudden sin, unshrived, untold.
He found me, and I lost the way
To Paradise for him. I sold
My soul for love and not for gold
He bought my soul, but even so,
My face is all that he has seen,
His is the only face I know,
And in the dark church, like a screen.
It shuts God out; it comes between;
While in some narrow foreign street
Or loitering on the crowded quay,
Who knows what others he may meet
To turn his eyes away from me?
Many are fair to such as he!
There is but one for such as I
To love, to hate, to hunger for;
I shall, perhaps, grow old and die,
With one short day to spend and store,
One night, in all my life, no more.
Just so the long days come and go,
Yet this one sin I will not tell
Though Mary's heart is as frozen snow
And all nights are cold for one warmed too well.
But, oh! ma Doué! the nights of Hell!
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
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For an Autograph
THOUGH old the thought and oft exprest,
'Tis his at last who says it best,
I'll try my fortune with the rest.
Life is a leaf of paper white
Whereon each one of us may write
His word or two, and then comes night.
'Lo, time and space enough,' we cry,
'To write an epic! ' so we try
Our nibs upon the edge, and die.
Muse not which way the pen to hold,
Luck hates the slow and loves the bold,
Soon come the darkness and the cold.
Greatly begin! though thou have time
But for a line, be that sublime,
Not failure, but low aim, is crime.
Ah, with what lofty hope we came!
But we forget it, dream of fame,
And scrawl, as I do here, a name.
poem by James Russell Lowell
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God’s Eternal Ways
The sun will rise and the sun will set, this my friend, is a sure bet.
For soon the day turns into night, and the sun will go out of sight.
Without any effort on man’s part, the light of day turns into dark.
But soon we see the morning skies, as again the sun begins to rise.
My friend, even in the sky at night, we can see above a lesser light.
Friend, so precise is God’s design that we use the moon to keep time.
For by watching each lunar phase, we can count off a month of days.
God’s ways are certain my friend, and on Him you can surely depend.
As you live through all your days, do you take note of His many ways?
For these are but two my friend, of His many ways, that have no end.
And all eternal are God’s ways, and God will receive Eternal Praise.
But as the sun does set and rise, man my friend, he lives and dies.
For God to receive man’s praise, man also, must have eternal days.
Though man received God’s Breath, sin brought upon man certain death.
However, through God’s Eternal ways, He lengthened man’s mortal days.
And through the death of Jesus Christ, man can inherit Eternal Life.
Soon we will need the moon no more, when we enter Eternity’s Door.
And there will be no more night and Christ The Lamb will be the Light.
Friend, time itself will be no more, as we live with Christ forevermore,
Living with Christ in Eternal Ways, while giving God Eternal Praise.
(Copyright ©11/2004)
Near You
There's just one place for me
Near you
It's like heaven to be
Near you
Times when we're apart
I can't face my heart
Say you'll never stray
More than just two lips away
*If my hours could be spent
Near you
I'd be more than content
Near you
Make my life worthwhile
By telling me that I'll
Spend the rest of my days
Near you
Repeat from *
I'll spend the rest of my days
Near you
Spend the rest of my days
Near you (and fade)
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Invisible Sun
I dont want to spend the rest of my life
Looking at the barrel of an armalite
I dont want to spend the rest of my days
Keeping out of trouble like the soldiers say
I dont want to spend my time in hell
Looking at the walls of a prison cell
I dont ever want to play the part
Of a statistic on a government chart
There has to be an invisible sun
It gives its heat to everyone
There has to be an invisible sun
That gives us hope when the whole days done
Its dark all day and it glows all night
Factory smoke and acetylene light
I face the day with me head caved in
Looking like something that the cat brought in
There has to be an invisible sun
It gives its heat to everyone
There has to be an invisible sun
That gives us hope when the whole days done
And theyre only going to change this place
By killing everybody in the human race
They would kill me for a cigarette
But I dont even wanna die just yet
There has to be an invisible sun
It gives its heat to everyone
There has to be an invisible sun
That gives us hope when the whole days done
song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I Should Die Tonight
If I should die to-night,
My friends would look upon my quiet face
Before they laid it in its resting-place,
And deem that death had left it almost fair;
And, laying snow-white flowers against my hair,
Would smooth it down with tearful tenderness,
And fold my hands with lingering caress, --
Poor hands, so empty and so cold to-night!
If I should die to-night,
My friends would call to mind with loving thought
Some kindly deed the icy hands had wrought,
Some gentle word the frozen lips had said,
Errands on which the willing feet had sped;
The memory of my selfishness and pride,
My hasty words would all be put aside,
And so I should be loved and mourned to-night.
If I should die to-night,
Even hearts estranged would turn once more to me,
Recalling other days remorsefully;
The eyes that chill me with averted glance
Would look upon me as of yore, perchance,
And soften in the old familiar way,
For who could war with dumb, unconscious clay?
So I might rest, forgiven of all to-night.
Oh, friends! I pray to-night,
Keep not your kisses for my dead, cold brow:
The way is lonely, let me feel them now.
Think gently of me; I am travelworn;
My faltering feet are pierced with many a thorn.
Forgive, oh, hearts estranged, forgive, I plead!
When dreamless rest is mine I shall not need
The tenderness for which I long to-night.
poem by Arabella Eugenia Smith
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St. Andrew's Bay
NIGHT.
Ah, listen through the music, from the shore,
The 'melancholy long-withdrawing roar';
Beneath the Minster, and the windy caves,
The wide North Ocean, marshalling his waves
Even so forlorn--in worlds beyond our ken -
May sigh the seas that are not heard of men;
Even so forlorn, prophetic of man's fate,
Sounded the cold sea-wave disconsolate,
When none but God might hear the boding tone,
As God shall hear the long lament alone,
When all is done, when all the tale is told,
And the gray sea-wave echoes as of old!
MORNING.
This was the burden of the Night,
The saying of the sea,
But lo! the hours have brought the light,
The laughter of the waves, the flight
Of dipping sea-birds, foamy white,
That are so glad to be!
'Forget!' the happy creatures cry,
'Forget Night's monotone,
With us be glad in sea and sky,
The days are thine, the days that fly,
The days God gives to know him by,
And not the Night alone!'
poem by Andrew Lang
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Inside
Inside the doors are sealed to love
Inside my heart is sleeping
Inside the fingers of my glove
Inside the bones of my right hand
Inside it's colder than the stars
Inside the dogs are weeping
Inside the circus of the wind
Inside the clocks are filled with sand
Inside she'll never hurt me
Inside the winter's creeping
Inside the compass of the night
Inside the folding of the land
Outside the stars are turning
Outside the world's still burning
Inside my head's a box of stars I never dared to open
Inside the wounded hide their scars, inside this lonesome sparrow's fall
Inside the songs of our defeat, they sing of treaties broken
Inside this army's in retreat, we hide beneath the thunder's call
Outside the rain keeps falling
Outside the drums are calling
Outside the flood won't wait
Outside they're hammering down the gate
Love is the child of an endless war
Love is an open wound still raw
Love is a shameless banner unfurled
Love's an explosion,
Love is the fire of the world
Love is a violent star
A tide of destruction
Love is an angry scar
A violation, a mutilation, capitulation, love is annihilation.
Inside the failures of the light, the night is wrapped around me
Inside my eyes deny their sight, you'd never find me in this place
Inside we're hidden from the moonlight, we shift between the shadows
Inside the compass of the night, inside the memory of your face
Outside the walls are shaking
Inside the dogs are waking
Outside the hurricane won't wait
Inside they're howling down the gate
Love is the child of an endless war
Love is an open wound still raw
Love is a shameless banner unfurled-acapo
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The King On The Tower
The cold gray hills they bind me around,
The darksome valleys lie sleeping below,
But the winds as they pass o'er all this ground,
Bring me never a sound of woe!
Oh! for all I have suffered and striven,
Care has embittered my cup and my feast;
But here is the night and the dark blue heaven,
And my soul shall be at rest.
O golden legends writ in the skies!
I turn towards you with longing soul,
And list to the awful harmonies
Of the Spheres as on they roll.
My hair is gray and my sight nigh gone;
My sword it rusteth upon the wall;
Right have I spoken, and right have I done:
When shall I rest me once for all?
O blessed rest! O royal night!
Wherefore seemeth the time so long
Till I see you stars in their fullest light,
And list to their loudest song?
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Remorse. (From August Von Platen)
How I started up in the night, in the night,
Drawn on without rest or reprieval!
The streets, with their watchmen, were lost to my sight,
As I wandered so light
In the night, in the night,
Through the gate with the arch mediaeval.
The mill-brook rushed from the rocky height,
I leaned o'er the bridge in my yearning;
Deep under me watched I the waves in their flight,
As they glided so light
In the night, in the night,
Yet backward not one was returning.
O'erhead were revolving, so countless and bright,
The stars in melodious existence;
And with them the moon, more serenely bedight;--
They sparkled so light
In the night, in the night,
Through the magical, measureless distance.
And upward I gazed in the night, in the night,
And again on the waves in their fleeting;
Ah woe! thou hast wasted thy days in delight,
Now silence thou light,
In the night, in the night,
The remorse in thy heart that is beating.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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If I Could But Forget
If I could but forget
The fullness of those first sweet days,
When you burst sun-like thro' the haze
Of unacquaintance, on my sight,
And made the wet, gray day seem bright
While clouds themselves grew fair to see.
And since, no day is gray or wet
But all the scene comes back to me,
If I could but forget.
If I could but forget
How your dusk eyes look into mine,
And how I thrilled as with strong wine
Beneath your touch; while sped amain
The quickened stream thro' ev'ry vein;
How near my breath fell to a gasp,
When for a space our fingers met
In one electric vibrant clasp,
If I could but forget.
If I could but forget
The months of passion and of pain,
And all that followed in their train--
Rebellious thoughts that would arise,
Rebellious tears that dimmed mine eyes,
The prayers that I might set love's fire
Aflame within your bosom yet--
The death at last of that desire--
If I could but forget.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Think Of Me As Your Soldier
Think of me as your soldier
The man whose life is for you
And the sweet love
Thats greater than time has known
Think of me as your soldier
Through worlds of hate Im for you
Tho the darkness hits me ever hard
Ill stand long
And well be lovers seeing love by heavens light
Lovers dreaming dreams each blessed by night
I will find the promised paradise
With you there Ill spend my life
In our hearts there are no others
We are bound as two lovers
To give the great eternal love
And well be lovers seeing love by heavens light
Lovers dreaming dreams each blessed by night
I will find the promised paradise
With you there Ill spend my life
Ill spend my life
Think of me, girl, as your soldier
Through worlds of pain Im for you
To give an endless love
To give an endless love
To give an endless love
To you....
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Souls
I
A THIN moon faints in the sky o'erhead,
And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead.
Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways,
Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays,
But forth of the gate and down the road,
Past the church and the yews, to their dim abode.
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
II
Fear not that sound like wind in the trees:
It is only their call that comes on the breeze;
Fear not the shudder that seems to pass:
It is only the tread of their feet on the grass;
Fear not the drip of the bough as you stoop:
It is only the touch of their hands that grope -
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can yearn and the dead can smite.
III
And where should a man bring his sweet to woo
But here, where such hundreds were lovers too?
Where lie the dead lips that thirst to kiss,
The empty hands that their fellows miss,
Where the maid and her lover, from sere to green,
Sleep bed by bed, with the worm between?
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
IV
And now that they rise and walk in the cold,
Let us warm their blood and give youth to the old.
Let them see us and hear us, and say: 'Ah, thus
In the prime of the year it went with us!'
Till their lips drawn close, and so long unkist,
Forget they are mist that mingles with mist!
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can burn and the dead can smite.
V
Till they say, as they hear us - poor dead, poor dead! -
'Just an hour of this, and our age-long bed -
Just a thrill of the old remembered pains
To kindle a flame in our frozen veins,
Just a touch, and a sight, and a floating apart,
As the chill of dawn strikes each phantom heart -
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear, and the dead have sight.'
VI
And where should the living feel alive
But here in this wan white humming hive,
As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold,
And one by one they creep back to the fold?
And where should a man hold his mate and say:
'One more, one more, ere we go their way'?
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the living can learn by the churchyard light.
VII
And how should we break faith who have seen
Those dead lips plight with the mist between,
And how forget, who have seen how soon
They lie thus chambered and cold to the moon?
How scorn, how hate, how strive, we too,
Who must do so soon as those others do?
For it's All Souls' night, and break of the day,
And behold, with the light the dead are away. . . .
poem by Edith Wharton
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