The Last Remembrance
I often let it slip through
the roughened irony of my palms,
and then some nights,
I clutch it tight
playing make believe
that, some tinny remnant
of the flimsy atlas we built
on the morass of hope,
may find its way home
into the cemetery of my heart
where your grave
stands open: the luminous
beacon to my redemption.
poem by Frank Lisa IndiRa Francesca Roger Platt Cornish Ma
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Related quotes
Healing Stripes
Look upon the hills,
Where the greatest light stands.
Listen to the voice of hope:
That healing has come
Taste the waters from life,
From the spring of redemption.
A monster traverses the earth.
With haste, chewing up humanity.
Casting the flesh into the grave.
It traps the innocent with its poisonous fangs
And in a deep pit, their hopes end
The master visits the remnant,
With grace, he rewards hope for despair
Redeeming the soul, reviving hope
He knows all the pleasures of life
But tastes the passion
That he should save a despairing people
Healing stripes
That tore his flesh to mend our wound.
Sweet sorrow
That exchanged his glory for our joy
The master reigns, while the monster fades
poem by Timothy muggaga
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Flame
Like a flame that seeks redemption,
From Aeolus's thrusts,
Via a pair of palms that unite,
To form a monumental wall;
I seek my own pair of palms;
To unite for a simple prayer;
For a miraculous intervention;
Two eyes that stare at mine's;
With a symbiotic dependency.
Oh Gabriel where are thou?
I am waiting, even in my twilight;
As the candle flames on;
In my flimsy vulnerability;
Protected by my beloved's touch;
And St Elmo's fire;
As their palms holds me away;
From the vengeful thrusts of the wind gods;
Walking in the cracked footpaths of destiny;
With a candle in hand;
Waiting for destiny.....
To spring a surprise.
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Hide & Seek
There was a time when there was nothing at al
Nothing at all, just a distant hum
There was a being and he lived on his own
He had no one to talk to, and nothing to do
He drew up the plans, learnt to work with his hands
A million years passed by and his work was done
And his words were these...
Hope you find it in everything, everything that you see
Hope you find it in everything, everything that you see
Hope you find it, hope you find it
Hope you find me in you
So she had built her elaborate home
With its ups and its downs, its rains and its sun
She decided that her work was done, time to have fun
And she found a game to play
Then as part of the game
She completely forgot where shed hidden herself
And she spent the rest of her time
Trying to find the parts
Hope you find it in everything, everything that you see
Hope you find it in everything, everything that you see
Hope you find it, hope you find it
Hope you find me in you
There was a time when there was nothing at all, nothing at all
Just a distant hum
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Distance
On a lonely hillside,
there stands a cabin
with a lamp in the window
to show someone is there.
In the distance it is a beacon
that points to my cosy home.
When my working day is through
and I walk back along the miles,
I can see that lamp burning.
That welcoming beacon
beckoning to me there in the distance.
My love waits for me there
after my work is done
with my slippers near the fire.
The miles never seem that long
with that beacon in the distance
waiting to welcome me home.
1 March 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Honestly You Are
A flesh air from heaven,
filled with the seasons of the sun,
sorrounded by green forest in town,
that's how your is built son.
I am a disturbing weather from hell,
built with desert I can tell
disgusting dust is what I smell,
it my heart that look so.
you carry a bible in youyr hands,
holding it tight in your arms,
moving slowly towards your destination,
and working with a good reason in your mind.
I kiss my gun before waking up,
I hold it tight as my life is it,
always in a hurryu with my eyes open,
running up to make and catch deals.
poem by Dickson Mseti
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Were There Hope
I was never in a league of noble gentlemen
To whom she'd cast polite and flitting smiles,
Only distant hope and dying dreams for me!
Or perhaps descent into a game of wiles
To give a chance of sipping wine on heady nights
With her angelic presence to declare;
Above, an aura playing out hypnotic hues,
And I in awe of blonde cascades of hair.
But no! my tiring soul is sinking in a mire
To haunt me for an age and evermore, for
How could I expect to hold her silken hand
When I am but a soulless ghost of yore?
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope hope hope hope hope?
Hope, hope?
Hope?
Never
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A Fantasy
I'll tell you something: every day
people are dying. And that's just the beginning.
Every day, in funeral homes, new widows are born,
new orphans. They sit with their hands folded,
trying to decide about this new life.
Then they're in the cemetery, some of them
for the first time. They're frightened of crying,
sometimes of not crying. Someone leans over,
tells them what to do next, which might mean
saying a few words, sometimes
throwing dirt in the open grave.
And after that, everyone goes back to the house,
which is suddenly full of visitors.
The widow sits on the couch, very stately,
so people line up to approach her,
sometimes take her hand, sometimes embrace her.
She finds something to say to everbody,
thanks them, thanks them for coming.
In her heart, she wants them to go away.
She wants to be back in the cemetery,
back in the sickroom, the hospital. She knows
it isn't possible. But it's her only hope,
the wish to move backward. And just a little,
not so far as the marriage, the first kiss.
poem by Louise Gluck
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Vindicated
Hope dangles on a string
Like slow spinning redemption
Winding in and winding out
The shine ahead has caught my eye
And roped me in so mesmerizing
It's so hypnotizing
I am captivated
I am
Vindicated
I am selfish
I am wrong
I am right
I swear I'm right
Swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed
But I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now
The things you swore you saw yourself
So clear
Like the diamond in your ring
Cut to mirror your intention
Oversized and overwhelmed
The shine of which has caught my eye
And rendered me so
Isolated so
Motivated I am
Certain now that I am
Vindicated
I am selfish
I am wrong
I am right
I swear I'm right
Swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed
But I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now
The things you swore you saw yourself
So tired of the corners of your lips
Part them and feel my finger tips
Trace the moment for forever
Defense is paper thin
Just one touch and I'd be in
Too deep now to ever swim
Against the current
So let me slip away
So let me slip away
So let me slip away
So let me slip against the current
So let me slip away
So let me slip away
So let me slip away
So let me slip away
Vindicated
I am selfish
I am wrong
I am right
I swear I'm right
Swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed
But I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now
The things you swore you saw yourself
My hope dangles on a string
Like slow spinning redemption
song performed by by Dashboard Confessional
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Warm And Welcoming Light
The light in your window
shines bright every night,
like a warm and welcoming
beacon light,
but I cannot see it.
I am too far away
locked in a prison
for the crimes that I have done.
One day when they release me
home, I am going to run,
to the warm and welcoming
beacon light in your window.
I promise when I get there
I will never leave again,
no more crimes will I commit.
Every bird builds a nest
as cosy and snug as can be.
So I built a home for us
where a fire burns
to make it
warm and welcoming
like a home should be.
I ask myself the question
how long will it be
before I can lay down
in the green grass of my home.
The answer comes back,
but not the one that I want to hear.
It will be many more years
before you can go home.
So I sit in my jail cell
waiting for that day,
when I can again breath
the clear free fresh air,
come running up the path
to see you at the door.
Come to my sweet home
and stay forever more.
22 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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She Believes (In Me)
While she lays sleeping
I stay out late at night and play my songs
And sometimes all the nights can be so long
And it's good when I finally make it home,
All alone
While she lays dreaming
I touch her face across the silver light
I see her dreams that drift up to the sky
And she wakes up to my kiss ,and i say it's alright
And i hold her tight
Chorus:
And she believes in me
I'll never know just what she sees in me
I told her someday if she was my girl
I could change the world...With my songs
I was wrong
But she has faith in me
And so I go on trying faithfully
Forever in my heart she will remain
And i hope and pray
I will find a way....find a way
While she lays waitin
I ask myself why do i hurt her so
Whats calls me on along this lonely road
Why don't i turn around and head back home
Where i belong
While she lays cryin
Cause she knows my heart is ripped in two
I'm torn between the things that i should do
She deserves it all , and i'd give it if i could
That a love is true
Chorus:
Cause she believes in me
I'll never know just what she sees in me
I told her someday if she was my girl
I could change the world
With my songs
But i was wrong
But she has faith in me
And so I go on trying faithfully
Forever in my heart she will remain
And i hope and pray
I will find a way....find a way
While she lays
while we waits for me
song performed by by Ronan Keating
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Jewish Cemetery In Germany
On a little hill amid fertile fields lies a small cemetery,
a Jewish cemetery behind a rusty gate, hidden by shrubs,
abandoned and forgotten. Neither the sound of prayer
nor the voice of lamentation is heard there
for the dead praise not the Lord.
Only the voices of our children ring out, seeking graves
and cheering
each time they find one--like mushrooms in the forest, like
wild strawberries.
Here's another grave! There's the name of my mother's
mothers, and a name from the last century. And here's a name,
and there! And as I was about to brush the moss from the name--
Look! an open hand engraved on the tombstone, the grave
of a kohen,
his fingers splayed in a spasm of holiness and blessing,
and here's a grave concealed by a thicket of berries
that has to be brushed aside like a shock of hair
from the face of a beautiful beloved woman.
Translated by Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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I Need to Come Back Home
Home is where the heart is.
That is what they say.
Home is where the heart is.
So let me find my way
back to you.
I've wandered much too long,
seen a lot of sights,
drifted like a boat
'til darkness filled my nights
I've seen too many people
everywhere I've been.
And not one face I've seen
can replace the love I'm in.
*** So I need to come back home to the face I left behind.
I need to come back home to the place I left behind.
I need to come back home and find you once again
and let my wandering end.
Piano interlude
I've searched each place I've gone
never could sit tight.
Left my tracks behind
'til darkness filled my mind.
Guess I can't replace you.
Gotta journey back to you
swallow up my pride.
REPEAT ***
Home is where the heart is.
That is what I say.
Home is where the heart is
So let me find my way
back to you.
Words and Music by Edwina Reizer
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Far Within Us #7
Toothed eyes fly
Over still waters
Around us purple lips
Flutter from branches
Screams hit the blue
And fall onto pillows
Our homes hide
Behind narrow backs
Hands clutch at
Flimsy clouds
Our veins roll turbid
Bed and tables
Of shattered bones
Noon has fallen into our hands
And turned all gloomy
An open grave on the face of the earth
On your face on my face
Trans. by Anne Pennington
Anonymous submission.
poem by Vasko Popa
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Like You In The Mirror!
let me be...
the bridge, the cup,
the lifeboat, the beacon.
the open hand offered,
the shovel, the saw.
the house left open,
the fire built to share.
the cool rag on the forehead,
the silence that heals.
the field waiting to turn,
the plow, and the mule.
the coat, the hat,
the blanket and the bed.
the ear with a face,
the face with a heart.
the heart that looks
like you in the mirror!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Lay It Down
Ruby red... her lips were on fire
A do me with a kiss if you please
Tell me what'chor sweetheart desires
Tell me how you want it to be
'Cause if it's love you want
Then you won't mind a little tenderness
That sometimes is so hard to find
(Lay it down)
Lay it down
Make it alright
(Lay it down)
Lay it down
I'll hold you so tight
(Lay it down)
Oh... before the morning light
It's gonna be alright
Oh... lay it down
Come and lay it down tonight
Tell me how you feel when we make love
Tell me is it real or just make believe
You will never know what'chor made of
'Til you open up your heart to receive
'Cause if the love you got that same old crime
We're talkin' tenderness that's so hard to find
And I'm gettin' behind you
(Lay it down)
Lay it down
Make it alright
(Lay it down)
A lay it down
I'll hold you so tight
(Lay it down)
Yeah... before the morning light
It's gonna be alright
Oh... lay it down
Come and lay it down tonight
Do you remember them times talkin' in your sleep
With a pocket full'a rubbers you never could keep
From your best friends lover you dreamt about then
When you pullin' up the covers the voices in your head
Say if you want it bad
Don't ever let it slip away
'Cause if it's love you want and tenderness... yeah
(Lay it down)
Lay it down
Make it alright
(Lay it down)
Lay it down
I'll hold you so tight
(Lay it down)
Oh... before the morning light
It's gonna be alright
Oh... lay it down
Gonna lay it down tonight
Gonna come around tonight
You gotta lay it down
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Airly Beacon
Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
Oh, the pleasant sight to see
Shires and towns from Airly Beacon,
While my love climbed up to me!
Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
Oh, the happy hours we lay
Deep in fern on Airly Beacon,
Courting through the summer's day!
Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;
Oh, the weary haunt for me,
All alone on Airly Beacon,
With his baby on my knee!
poem by Charles Kingsley
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A Reason To Smile
Life is precious hold on to life so tight
The happiness is right there hold on so tight
Don't say I can't you will find a way
Do not wait someone or a reason to make you smile
The happiness lies right there within your heart
No one will care if you are happy or not
Just keep smile and you will find out
The shining light through the dark
Just believe in the strength of your faith
So soon you'll find out that there are millions of ways
To turn the small point of the light largest then the dark to light up your chilly nights
Just smile to life and it will return back the smile
Don't wait for a reason or someone to come to your life may make you smile
I've found my way to happiness through my way to the god
When I found out being alive itself is enough to hold on to life
The happiness lies there inside everyone of us
Say I'm happy and you will find the out
That you don't need a reason to make you smile
Can't you see that your life is a gift from god above
Try to celebrate your life
And praise the god
Build a big home within your heart just for the love
Just trust the god and every new day you will find a new reason that makes you smile
The life is precious enough to make you smile
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Our Atlas
Not Atlas, with his shoulders bent beneath the weighty world,
Bore such a burden as this man, on whom the Gods have hurled
The evils of old festering lands-yea, hurled them in their might
And left him standing all alone, to set the wrong things right.
It is the way the Fates have done since first Time's race began!
They open up Pandora's box before some chosen man;
And then, aloof, they wait and watch, to see if he will find
And wake the slumbering God that dwells in every mortal's mind.
Erect, our modern Atlas stands, with brave uplifted head,
And there is courage in his eyes, if in his heart be dread.
Not dread of foes, but dread of friends, who may not pull together,
To bring the lurching ship of State safe through the stormy weather.
Oh, never were there wilder waves or more stupendous seas,
Or rougher rocks or bleaker winds, or darker days than these.
Not Washington, not Lincoln knew so grave an hour of Time
As he who now stands face to face with War's world-shaking crime.
His brain is clear, his soul is brave, his heart is just and right,
He asks no honours of the earth, but favour in God's sight;
His aim is not to wear a crown or win imperial power,
But to use wisely for the race life's terrible great hour.
O Liberty, who lights the world with rays that come from God,
Shine on Columbia's troubled track, and make it bright and broad;
Shine on each heart, and give it strength to meet its pains and losses,
And give supernal strength to one who bears the whole world's crosses;
Take from his thought the fear of friends who may not pull together,
And bring the glorious ship of State safe through wild waves and weather.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Cemetery Drive
cemetery drive,
covered in mist,
driving down the road,
so cold,
the crypts and tombstones cast dark shadow,
the bats and the wind,
grimly howl,
cemetery drive,
a place of shadow,
cemetery drive,
tall dead trees,
comfort the dead,
black roses grow along the road,
they fight the cold,
and give the living hope,
the living hope their hearts never stop,
and they'll never have to call cemetery drive home,
and tend to the shadows and black roses
poem by Catie Belle Stark
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Ironic Disposition
Irony’s subtle lessons…
What a joke.
Irony doesn’t know subtlety.
It blatantly beats you senseless…
Mockingly
It revels in your sorrow.
It’s got me on speed dial.
I’ve been playing a song that doesn’t even want to be
Heard.
And it’s given me the music.
The one’s we’re closest to
Are its favorite tools.
It lets your fucking heart bleed all it’s got…
On the wrong altar.
It smirks when you take up that knife,
It knows you can’t.
It shows you a door you’re too smart to open.
But there are no other doors.
poem by Thom Isaacson
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