The Beauti Of Sorrow
Beauti of sorrow
vast as the sea
eve of the morrow
inner expanse of me
conceptually multiplied
virtually personified
politically religified
perceptually cubified
Beatui of sorrow
vast as the sea
eve of the morrow
inner expanse of me
life is a beauty
living our prize
to share them our duty*
effects all our lives*
Beatui of sorrow
vast as the sea
eve of the morrow
inner expanse of me
running reel of thoughts
projection of the mind
independent performing plots
and a function to define
Beatui of sorrow
vast as the sea
eve of the morrow
inner expanse of me
many a different beauties
shine in a single sorrow
many a different evenings
raise a plethora of tomorrows
Beatui of sorrow
vast as the sea
eve of the morrow
inner expanse of me
contemplation of all thats left
the final mystery announced
a souls a speck of a black hole's death
so evil, and good renounce
Beatui of sorrow
vast as the sea
eve of the morrow
inner expanse of me
sorrow isn't knowing now
knowing hurts so much
hurt is hope that holds you down
ego is a common crutch
Beatui of sorrow
vast as the sea
eve of the morrow
inner expanse of me
*Changed Line From:
[to share it our duty-original-2.26.10]
[the purpose of our lives-original-2.26.10]
poem by Tim caffery
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Related quotes
There's No To-Morrow
Two long had Lov'd, and now the Nymph desir'd,
The Cloak of Wedlock, as the Case requir'd;
Urg'd that, the Day he wrought her to this Sorrow,
He Vow'd, that he wou'd marry her To-Morrow.
Agen he Swears, to shun the present Storm,
That he, To-Morrow, will that Vow perform.
The Morrows in their due Successions came;
Impatient still on Each, the pregnant Dame
Urg'd him to keep his Word, and still he swore the same.
When tir'd at length, and meaning no Redress,
But yet the Lye not caring to confess,
He for his Oath this Salvo chose to borrow,
That he was Free, since there was no To-Morrow;
For when it comes in Place to be employ'd,
'Tis then To-Day; To-Morrow's ne'er enjoy'd.
The Tale's a Jest, the Moral is a Truth;
To-Morrow and To-Morrow, cheat our Youth:
In riper Age, To-Morrow still we cry,
Not thinking, that the present Day we Dye;
Unpractis'd all the Good we had Design'd;
There's No To-Morrow to a Willing Mind.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
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Sorrow Under Mist
Mist -
Giving wispy vapour to the breath,
Cool calm to autumn afternoons,
A hovering air of mysticism
Over brooding lakes -
Was different here,
Affording company, closeness -
A caring arm around her shoulders.
In the eyes, a once-clear oceanic blue
Wavered under water -
Tears telling torrid truths
She couldn't face -
Like the glowering image in the mirror
You don't see in your mind's eye
Of compensation; delusion.
We see her sitting on the concrete steps
That led down to the dew-laden garden.
She's peering up, sensing her diffuse companion,
Refreshing in its chill; giving crispness
To the stealth of dulling evening.
But the bite of air couldn't lift the sorrow
Of pale youth in love,
Shouldered by a not-in-love and scoffing eye.
Rejection hurt;
Hurts -
Wrenches deep -
Emotion that we can't deny!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
Sorrow Rain
sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow
sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow
sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow
sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow
sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow
sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow
sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow sorrow
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Here For Today
No more songs of sorrow
Lamenting things gone past us
Live today and hope for morrow
Hold tight the moments joyous.
Maybe the morrow will not find us
Our footsteps will not ring on the grass
We have only today for a fresh start
To live anew and love with all heart.
No more songs of sorrow
It's time to break from the past
Even if there comes no morrow
Live moments that fly away fast.
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Envoy
Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play;
Go, children of swift joy and tardy sorrow:
And some are sung, and that was yesterday,
And some unsung, and that may be to-morrow.
Go forth; and if it be o'er stony way,
Old joy can lend what newer grief must borrow:
And it was sweet, and that was yesterday,
And sweet is sweet, though purchas-ed with sorrow.
Go, songs, and come not back from your far way:
And if men ask you why ye smile and sorrow,
Tell them ye grieve, for your hearts know To-day,
Tell them ye smile, for your eyes know To-morrow.
poem by Francis Thompson
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Herded
Last rivulet of conversation
writhing on the edge of
wet expanse of acceptance
soon the desert would be herding
mad pack of silences
Kinetics of vast journey
removed from niches of mind
vacuum will suck in all contours of happiness
on this fork of déjà vu
on this roundabout of fate
I stand spent or perhaps ready
For another winding journey
To be herded with arid flock of silences
Inches beyond the vast expanse of acceptance
poem by Frank Lisa IndiRa Francesca Roger Platt Cornish Ma
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Unheard
Last rivulet of conversation
writhing on the edge of
wet expanse of acceptance
soon the desert would be herding
mad pack of silences
Kinetics of vast journey
removed from niches of mind
vacuum will suck in all contours of happiness
on this fork of déjà vu
on this roundabout of fate
I stand spent or perhaps ready
For another winding journey
To be herded with arid flock of silences
Inches beyond the vast expanse of acceptance
poem by Frank Lisa IndiRa Francesca Roger Platt Cornish Ma
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Sweet Sorrow
O Darkness of mine,
Why do they maltreat you?
O Sorrow so kind,
What is it you do?
How cruel they are,
to make Sorrow cry!
How cruel they are,
to leave Darkness looking up at the sky!
Why is Sorrow such a malady?
Who left Darkness in disarray?
He longs to live in sweet Sorrow's golden morrow,
even if it pierces like an arrow.
poem by Soren Valentine
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B: XVI: Fear In Sorrow
Sorrow must like
putting itself on show.
Yet you never see it all.
It doesn't have that winning drive
and keeps some back to stay alive,
afraid that saying, 'All is sorrow',
would spell the end to morrow.
'I have no illusions, friend, '
said sorrow, knowing everything.
'I will give you some relief
from the unknown deep.
Tonight I'll give you dreamless sleep.'
poem by Douglas Scotney
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O Mors! Quam Amara Est Memoria Tua Homini Pacem Habenti In Substantiis Suis
Exceeding sorrow
Consumeth my sad heart!
Because to-morrow
We must depart,
Now is exceeding sorrow
All my part!
Give over playing,
Cast thy viol away:
Merely laying
Thine head my way:
Prithee, give over playing,
Grave or gay.
Be no word spoken;
Weep nothing: let a pale
Silence, unbroken
Silence prevail!
Prithee, be no word spoken,
Lest I fail!
Forget to-morrow!
Weep nothing: only lay
In silent sorrow
Thine head my way:
Let us forget to-morrow,
This one day!
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Undying Tomorrow
Undying Tomorrow
By: Adam M. Snow
An undying tomorrow;
friends of sorrow;
lay to rest;
on the night of morrow.
Mark of raw;
torments and flaw;
lives on forever;
with silence of maw.
All hearts are broken;
lies are spoken;
the hangman comes;
the gallows oaken.
Death is forsaken;
lives are taken;
no rest for the wicked;
as the reapers awaken.
All eyes are scorn;
the people mourn;
nameless ones are lost;
no child is born.
Souls are caged;
the peoples outraged;
all children died;
the dogwood aged.
An undying tomorrow;
dying of sorrow;
awakens the beast;
of the final morrow.
No need to mend;
nothing left to fend;
all hope is gone;
this is the end.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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To-Morrow
When you’re suffering hard for your sins, old man,
When you wake to trouble and sleep ill—
Oh, this is the clack of the middle class,
‘Win back the respect of the people!’
You are weak, you’re a fool, or a drunken brute
When you’re deep in trouble and sorrow;
But walk down the street in a decent suit,
And their hats will be off to-morrow! Old Chap—
And their hats will be off to-morrow!
They cant and they cackle—‘Redeem the Past!’
Who never had past worth redeeming:
Your soul seems dead, but you’ll find at last
That somewhere your soul lay dreaming.
You may stagger down-hill in a beer-stained coat,
You may loaf, you may cadge and borrow—
But walk down the street with a ten-pound note
And their hats will be off to-morrow! Old Man—
Yes, their hats will be off to-morrow!
But stick to it, man! for your old self’s sake,
Though to brood on the past is human;
Hold up for the sake of the mate who was true,
And the sake of the Other Woman.
And as for the rest, you may take off your hat
And banish all signs of sorrow;
You may take their hands, but in spite of that,
Can they win your respect to-morrow? Old Man—
Can they win your respect to-morrow?
poem by Henry Lawson
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Tell Me That Love Returns
Tell me that love returns
to break the silent waves of pain;
those large imperious waves of pain
in the vast ocean of sorrow.
Tell me that love returns
to catch the falling stars;
those bright imperious sparks of stars
withing the vast sky of sorrow.
Tell me that love returns
to mend this broken heart;
this shattered, broken, wounded heart
in the vast soul of sorrow.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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Sorrow
SORROW, on wing through the world for ever,
Here and there for awhile would borrow
Rest, if rest might haply deliver
Sorrow.
One thought lies close in her heart gnawn thorough
With pain, a weed in a dried-up river,
A rust-red share in an empty furrow.
Hearts that strain at her chain would sever
The link where yesterday frets to-morrow:
All things pass in the world, but never
Sorrow.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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You Aren't Sure
There on the rock wall
The sun kisses the last time
Then it bows and bids farewell
For the evening to spin her rhyme.
But you hope there'll be a morrow
The transient night will end
The darkness will be a passing sorrow
With the new dawn you will amend.
There on the mountain peaks
The sun clings one last time
Then another world it seeks
Here the evening spins her rhyme.
But you aren't sure there'll be a morrow
And the night that arrives will end
The darkness will be a passing sorrow
Gifting you a day to amend!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Vanquish
Teardrops of last winter years
Is a graves wine
To a hurting heart.
Each dropped of tears -
Is a cleansing balm
To a broken soul.
Let it dropped - until -
Your soul is healed
From the mires
Of broken dreams.
Tears is a vanquish
Of today’s sorrow
But an appointment
Of tomorrows duty.
Sigh! So cry like a baby
For morrow
Is a fine day.
You’ll forget
All your sorrow.
poem by Tess Rockenstire
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Angle Of Sorrow...
This be me the angle of sorrow…
This is me the angle you wont see tomorrow…
The angle of sorrow who looks for no tomorrow…
The angle of sorrow isn't the one you want to borrow…
This angle isn't going to mangle but he's just going to dangle…
From the ceilings he is going to dangle…
The angle or sorrow is the angle who wont be here forever however
His sorrow will remain in this place forever.
I will bring on sheer terror so be ready to fear
Im coming at you with a spear…don't let me get near… because I will tear you to
Smears…steer away from my path before you get blast…
This place is soo vast but remember that I am fast…
don't let me pass or you will be last…
This is the angle of sorrow…
The angle you wouldn't wanna see tomorrow…
By: Tou Yang
Song Of The New Year
I heard the bells at midnight
Ring in the dawning year;
And above the clanging chorus
Of the song, I seemed to hear
A choir of mystic voices
Flinging echoes, ringing clear,
From a band of angels winging
Through the haunted atmosphere:
'Ring out the shame and sorrow,
And the misery and sin,
That the dawning of the morrow
May in peace be ushered in.'
And I thought of all the trials
The departed years had cost,
And the blooming hopes and pleasures
That are withered now and lost;
And with joy I drank the music
Stealing o'er the feeling there
As the spirit song came pealing
On the silence everywhere:
'Ring out the shame and sorrow,
And the misery and sin,
That the dawning of the morrow
May in peace be ushered in.'
And I listened as a lover
To an utterance that flows
In syllables like dewdrops
From the red lips of a rose,
Till the anthem, fainter growing,
Climbing higher, chiming on
Up the rounds of happy rhyming,
Slowly vanished in the dawn:
'Ring out the shame and sorrow,
And the misery and sin,
That the dawning of the morrow
May in peace be ushered in.'
Then I raised my eyes to Heaven,
And with trembling lips I pled
For a blessing for the living
And a pardon for the dead;
And like a ghost of music
Slowly whispered--lowly sung--
Came the echo pure and holy
In the happy angel tongue:
'Ring out the shame and sorrow,
And the misery and sin,
And the dawn of every morrow
Will in peace be ushered in.'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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between the shell
and my ear
the vast expanse of sea
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Word Reaches Us
Word reaches us
that you are sleeping, sleeping.
Dismayed
we have turned to the sea.
We encounter among others
walking there
a sense of what we have lost:
the broad expanse of humanity’s
sensitivity to the oneness of itself.
Gabrielle,
while you sleep, resting your nimble
brain, we think of walking with you
in the valley
of the shadow of death; holding
you up.
We hope you can feel our grief;
our sorrow vast
like the ocean that draws us.
We know in this moment you teach us many things:
how all across the world
there is no one who deserves this fate.
We know we must bleach and sterilize our
tongues,
brighten with understanding
all our dark thoughts.
Sister, whom I never met
except in this pain that has so
wounded you
thank you for reminding us
through your suffering
and your suspenseful sleep
that we must change.
poem by Alice Walker
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Like My Own
There's no sorrow like the sorrow of a martyr'd soul,
There's no sorrow like the sorrow of one who is alone.
There's no sorrow like the sorrow of loving one who's gone,
There's never been a sorrow so much deeper than my own.