The winning move.
Life is not a Tempest
Nor a Mid Summer Night's Dream.
It is not A Winter's Tale
Nor a drama to play As You Like It.
All's Well that Ends Well,
Life is a Comedy of Errors.
We have Great Expectations
We do dream of Paradise Regained.
We move our pieces Measure for Measure.
Alas! In the process Love's Labour's Lost.
We eat the Grapes of Wrath
And life seems to be War and Peace.
Sitting Under the Greenwood Tree
It is all An Enchanted Kiss
It is all A Tempered Wind,
And we forget The Elegy Written in a country church-yard.
Life is an Old Curiosity Shop,
Our past is our shadow.
Again, it is the same old story-
The Old man and the Sea,
The Higher Pragmatism,
The Lonesome Road,
And who finally wins? -
Oliver Twists or the Merchant of the Venice?
***************************************** *****************
Shakespeare -Tempest, Mid-summer Night’s dream, A winter’s Tale, As you like it, All’s well that ends well, Comedy of errors, Measure for measure, Love’s labour’s lost, Merchant of Venice-
Dickens- Great Expectations, Oliver Twist, Old curiosity shop.
Milton- Paradise Regained.
Tolstoy- War and Peace.
Steinbeck- The grapes of wrath.
Hardy- Under the greenwood tree.
Thomas Gray – Elegy written in a country church-yard.
O Henry- An enchanted kiss, A tempered wind, The higher pragmatism, The lonesome road.
Hemingway- The old man and the sea.
poem by Ravi Panamanna
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Related quotes
Longing for Shakespeare!
(Today is anniversary of the man who make us love, fine aspects of english language!)
Poetic world
Looks forlorn
May another
Shakespeare be born
Alas, Prose and poetry
Exude curses!
We read
Drab verses!
Soap operas
Have replaced plays!
Eclipsed sun shines
And fools make hay!
No husband
Can tame his shrew!
Merchants of Venice
Can hardly argue!
The passionate pilgrim
Always thinks
-That Brutus, Macbeth and shylocks
Are new age kings
With dubious Romeos
and equally corrupt Juliet’s,
Its a measure for measure
In our new age 'tempest'
Yes, its much ado about nothing
Because life is a midsummer night’s dream
As tragic as Julius Caesar
May be it is the comedy of errors!
Will his birth a love’s labour lost
Or a literary gift!
All’s well that ends well!
As you like it!
poem by Ashish Dimri
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How Do You Measure Up?
If you measure yourself by ambition,
There will always be someone more ambitious than you.
If you measure yourself by money,
There is always someone wealthier than you.
If you measure yourself by power,
There is always someone more powerful than you.
If you measure yourself with material things,
There is always someone with more stuff than you.
If you measure yourself by where you are in life,
There is always someone farther down the path than you.
If you measure yourself by appearance,
There is always someone that appears than you.
If you measure yourself by God,
Then we are all the same.
We are all wonderfully and beautifully made.
God is love.
And love has no end.
So in God's heart,
You will always measure up!
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Much Ado About Nothing
If all these great writers
were still alive in these days
I believe they'd be Soccer fans
and write about it in books and plays.
Shakespeare predicts a Winter of Discontent
after watching Coventry City play
performances that are Much Ado About Nothing
and a Comedy of Errors home and away.
Dickens writes about fans Great Expectations
for their team wearing Sky Blue
but alas he forsees a season of Hard Times
if they don't start picking up a point or two.
Victor Hugo says fans are feeling Les Miserables
with shoulders drooped like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame
while Orwell says they'd rather watch Big Brother
or stay in and read his book Animal Farm.
But Shakespeare tells us fans not to fret
he's not really writing off our football team
in fact he predicts a top six finish
because he saw it in a Midsummer Nights Dream!
poem by Kevin Halls
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As I Am A Man
as i am a man
measure me not with that
divine stick
i do not wish
to be more than God
nor do i intend to be
lower than
that beast.
measure me
with the love that i can give you
the sorrows i have
the pains i have endured
the successes that i have
hidden from your eyes
measure me with the purity
of my intentions
the care with which i do my
actions
do not measure me
with your expectations
let me stand strong
on the pavement of
your cares.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Shattered Dream
Lost in confusion
An unexpected loss
As though the world was my enemy
And nothing seemed to be my destiny
Lost in thoughts
As though I'm lost in confusion
And lost in my life
Like a winding road
Things just wind around me
Lost in dreams
As though I'm lost in sleep
Never wanting to wake again
From a neverending dream
Until it ends finally,
Which I call...
A shattered dream!
Shannon Martin
poem by Shannon Martin
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Did You Ever Wonder Why
(toshifumi hinata/bill wray/diana ross)
Last night I had a dream
Lost in a golden paradise
Trying hard to find my way
Every day a new surprise
I found something wonderful
Here in my private world
All alone in the darkness
The truth can make you strong
Did you ever kiss the sky
Did you ever dream at night
Did you ever wonder why
Stars fall from the sky
Birds know how to fly
Day breaks and Im awake
No dark clouds hanging over me
Holding on for heavens sakes
Trustings hard to do
Its a long road, where does it end
Hand in hand with you my friend
We can never give up, never give in
Look how far youve come
Did you ever kiss the sky
Did you ever dream at night
Did you ever wonder why
Stars fall from the sky
Birds know how to fly
My hopes, my fears, my dreams
Come shining through
As long as I have you
I have you
Did you ever kiss the sky
Did you ever dream at night
Did you ever wonder why
Stars fall from the sky
Birds know how to fly
Did you ever kiss the sky
Did you ever dream at night
Did you ever wonder why
Did you ever kiss the sky
Did you ever dream at night
Did you ever wonder why
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Measure Of Love sung to From Russia With Love
The measure of love, in truth, is this:
To treasure each sigh, close by, then kiss!
I've revelled each girl I yearn,
Just to discern
The measure of love!
Soft embraces, gazes...
In search for one true friend...
Let go... then watching love grow...
Then lips pressed tight, just right,
As if our two hearts said, 'Hello! '
Love prays this is so...
The measure is true in gentlemen...
Right out of the blue! So who knows when?
It's meant to astound you, too...
So you can view
The measure of love!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Without Measure
measure my love
i will love you without measure
there you shall fail
this love has no number
unquantifiable
your measure cannot measure
this love immeasurable
this love so
unbearable
you measure me again
this love like a flame on your oil lamp
shall then die
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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356
measure my love
i will love you without measure
there you shall fail
this love has no number
unquantifiable
your measure cannot measure
this love immeasurable
this love so
unbearable
you measure me again
this love like a flame on your oil lamp
shall then die
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What's Important?
Where is the beginning?
Where is the end?
Does anyone really
know, my friend?
What does it matter?
What does it mean?
It's the in-between stuff
that creates the scenes
of your life.
For some are born poor
and end up with money.
Some are born rich
and end with not any.
So money's not how
to measure your worth.
It can be gone in a minute.
Those that measure their worth
by faith have a life
with everything in it.
Peace of mind,
beauty to find,
time to unwind
and time to be kind,
and that's the secret
to success in your life.
Beginnings and ends, forgot,
but the in-betweens are not.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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You Say The Battle Is Over
This song appears on two albums, and was first released on the autograph album, and has also been released on the wildlife concert album as a live track.
And you say that the battle is over
And you say that the war is all done
Go tell it to those
With the wind in their nose
Who run from the sound of the gun
And write it on the sides
Of the great whaling ships
Or on ice floes where conscience is tossed
With the wind in their eyes
It is they who must die
And it's we who must measure the loss
And you say that the battle is over
And finally the world is at peace
You mean no one is dying
And mothers don't weep
Or it's not in the papers at least
There are those who would deal
In the darkness of life
There are those who would tear down the sun
And most men are ruthless
But some will still weep
When the gifts we were given are gone
Now the blame cannot fall
On the heads of a few
It's become such a part of the race
It's eternally tragic
That that which is magic
Be killed at the end of the glorious chase
From young seals to great whales
From waters to wood
They will fall just like weeds in the wind
With fur coats and perfumes
And trophies on walls
What a hell of a race to call men
And you say that the battle is over
And you say that the war is all done
Go tell it to those
With the wind in their nose
Who run from the sound of the gun
And write it on the sides
Of the great whaling ships
Or on ice floes where conscience is tossed
With the wind in their eyes
It is they who must die
And it's we who must measure the loss
With the wind in their eyes
It is they who must die
And it's we who must measure the cost
Words and music by david mallett
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode To John Keats
Oh lost love from long ago
I think on you once more.
When spring arrives and birds do sing
and colorful blossoms grow
My memories spring to life again
as if you were right here.
And all the phrases that you wrote
still sound within my ear.
I treasure them all within my heart
just as I treasured you.
I measure the days I must live through
just as I measure the dew
that arrives and glistens in the morn
and shines upon the grass.
Oh that you could walk upon it with me
and I could make it last.
But only in my dreams of you
can thoughts like these last.
And only in my wakefulness
can this not come to pass.
Somewhere in my future times
we shall meet again.
I know not where? I know not how?
But I'll recognize the when.
And together my love our words will be written
with the ink from love's sweet pen.
Written from the memory of
FANNY BRAWNE
poem by Edwina Reizer
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You Say That The Battle Is Over
AND YOU SAY THAT THE BATTLE IS OVER
JOHN DENVER
And you say that the battle is over,
And you say that the war is all done-
Go tell it to those with the wind in their nose
Who run from the sound of the gun,
And write it on the sides of the great whaling-ships,
Or on ice floes where conscience is tossed-
With the wild in their eyes, it is they who must die
And it's we who must measure the loss.
And you say that the battle is over,
And finally the world is at peace-
You mean no one is dying, and mothers don't weep,
Or it's not in the papers, at least.
There are those who would deal in the darkness of life,
There are those who would tear down the sun,
And most men are ruthless, but some will still weep
When the gifts we were given are gone.
Now the blame cannot fall on the heads of a few,
It's become such a part of the race;
It's eternally tragic for that which is magic
To be killed at the end of the glorious chase.
>From young seals to great whales,
>From waters to woods,
They will fall just like weeds in the wind;
With fur coats, and perfumes, and trophies on walls:
What a hell of a race to call men.
And you say that the battle is over,
And you say that the war is all done-
Go tell it to those with the wind in their nose
Who run from the sound of the gun.
And write it on the sides of the great whaling-ships,
Or on ice floes where conscience is tossed;
With the wild in their eyes, it is they who must die,
And it's we who must measure the loss.
With the wild in their eyes, it is they who must die,
And it's we who must measure the cost
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the spirit of Rumi - 10
I said to My Beloved
You have given me all Your love;
I have given You all my love;
what more can I give to You?
My Beloved said
If you love Me, then show your love
by seeing, knowing, all
that happens to you in your short life
as gifts from Me..
all events, all acts, all thoughts,
all seeming accidents, all illnesses,
all that arises from your meetings with others,
all their words to you –
see them all as Me
I said to My Beloved,
O My Beloved, my love is great
yet my will is weak;
I love You as I love life itself -
help me in this!
My Beloved said
It will not be easy; for
this will be the measure of your love for Me…
My help is this:
every time you see Me in some passing moment,
in some passing event in your life
be it harsh, or seem unfair— yes,
especially in this, my fiercely loving love -
you will know My love for you
as you have never known My love
for you so great, so pure
I said to My Beloved
This hard and lovely thing, O My Beloved,
will be the measure of my love for You.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Oh! How I Dream,
Oh! How I dream,
You would say my name
In that voice, so soft, of yours.
Oh! How I dream,
We could be forever
In each other's arms.
Oh! How I dream,
Of the happiness
Two souls have together.
Oh! How I dream,
We're on the clouds
Sharing our first kiss.
Oh! How I dream,
That fire in your eyes
Ignites one in mine.
Oh! How I dream,
Of our wedding day
Becoming one in two bodies,
One in two souls.
Oh! How I dream,
That glorious wedding night,
When for the first time
We'll share everything we have.
Oh! How I dream,
Of fifty years down the road,
And our love all the same.
Oh! How I dream,
I can't wait for all this.
I can't wait for our first kiss,
I can't wait until our wedding day,
I can't wait until our wedding night.
Oh! How I dream,
What the heck is this?
This is nothing more than pure fantasy
Created for my pleasure.
Oh! How I dream,
This will never happen,
I want love, I want it,
But love doesn't want me.
Oh! How I dream,
Eventually love will find me,
And he will ask me for his hand.
We'll share it all together,
All our broken pieces.
And it won't all be perfect,
But it will be love.
poem by Hannah Diane Williams
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Transformation
On this quiet summer's night
The quarter moon seemingly upholds a
Shooting star against
A background sky of royal blue-
Through the mystifying darkness
I would follow the pathway of the wind,
That wind that can almost be seen-
That wind that is frighteningly stark white within
My mind's eye, so powerfully blowing,
Though I have been told by the magical voices inside of my mind,
Not in an angry or threatening way-
To me everything in this vast and complex world
In which I live is ominous and intimidating-
I would stand in awe upon a mountaintop, of
The sky that is part of this universe so vast and mysterious-always looking
In the direction of the wind with hope that
Someday it shall subside and the barren tree
That stands by the lonesome creek in its solitude
Shall bear leaves and give me shade and some comfort, as I am left alone to dream.
One evening there shall be thousands of stars illuminating the sky so that
I can journey without trepidation into the distant and perplexing universe
At the dawning of a new day without ever looking behind-
Within my utmost imagination, I shall embrace the mysticism of the sun as it
Ascends over the horizon and I will have found some peace-
It shall not matter the time or place because
I shall have only moved forward in this life,
When I find myself standing on the same mountaintop on another balmy summer's eve,
I shall behold the moon and stars, brilliant against the darkening sky,
My heart shall burst into a joyful song as all that I fear
Will have been carried away by the wind- and contentment and peace of mind
Shall be written in the stars above, changing my life forever.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Within Eternity (Ein Traum)
A dream, a dream is our being
of mortal clay,
like shadows on the road we're fleeing
and fade away.
We measure progress by the ride of
an hours' strife,
and live - and know not - right inside of
eternal life...
poem by Johann Gottfried von Herder, translated by Walter Aue
Submitted by anonym
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A Letter To My Other Self
she sits and she waits
To be let in
Is she the winter
In the spring
She imagines you have left green leaves
That trickle and shine
Is she the better world
Some other life waiting to be lived? outside
You leave the window open on the journey in
The door to your home is ajar
Under grey skies
Is she the love you never had?
Roots clutching earth in the coldest climate
but she cannot tell you how to love or live
Or dream
There is no time
There is no place
she exists
and yet she is extinct
Measure her
take note of every form as if she were born in
shape in height
measure her well with your eyes
for in the morning she will have taken flight
out of the darkness into the light
poem by Yvette Smith
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Modern Day Mariana (Cavatina Sequence)
At times sinister, other times placid,
just sweeping on
far over the horizon of the flat earth,
all life seems gone
in the arid landscape of the Karoo,
stone upon stone
shimmers in the great scorching noontime heat
while wild pigeons walk the roof with small feet.
Two old rusting wind-pumps guard the kingdom,
they are lifeless
and when the light wind passes they creak to life;
somewhat careless
rusting tools are strewn all around the grange,
quite purposeless
she pages through a very old magazine,
around her life and the world does decline.
Every day she picks a marigold
from the garden,
continually plays the 'he loves me' game,
a passing warden
is at times the only male company,
she does pardon
her fiancé for not coming to visit,
but she does not really understand it.
As time passes she grows somewhat older,
time moves slowly,
the old wooden floor creaks under her feet,
far too lowly
her life seems while old portraits watches her
and gradually
she starts to live in a kind of strange dream,
at night inhuman voices laugh, cry and scream.
[References: 'Mariana in the moated grange' in the play 'Measure for Measure' by William Shakespeare and 'Mariana' by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Contentment
If any line that I ever penned,
Or any word I have spoken,
Has comforted heart of foe or friend -
In any way, why my life, I'll say,
Has reaped the reward of labour,
If aught I have said, or written, has made
Gladder the heart o' my neighbour.
If any deed that I ever did
Lightened a sad heart's sorrow,
If I have lifted a drooping lid
Up to the bright to-morrow,
Though the world knows not, nor gives me a thought,
Nor ever can know, nor praise me,
Yet still I shall say, to my heart alway,
That my life and labour repay me.
If in any way I have helped a soul,
Or given a spirit pleasure,
Then my cup of joy, I shall think is full
With an overflowing measure.
Though never an eye, but the one on high
Looks on my kindly action,
Yet, O my heart, we shall think of our part
In the drama, with satisfaction.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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