En.Citatepedia^®.ro

They Marvel on the Serenity

They marvel on the serenity
Of Nefertiti's symmetrical coutenance

They let themselves lose
Into the enigmatic Mona Lisa

But why and why they spurn
To have a cursory glance
Into the misty eyes of Parveena! ! !

That poor pearly pear
Though snatched of its glitter, Javed,
Is yet another living
master-piece of history
Or the stark mirror of its ruthlessness.

Every droplet as it
Dances down the mother's shabby face,
Immortalizes the silent ocean of history,
Enough to disturb nefertiti's calm,
Unleash the endless enigma,
Shake the coldest of cold
On earth; Yet we don't know
And they won't allow
Niether her nor we,
Where Javed is, and
The thousands of unsung blossoms
Obscured in history,
Or killed by the same,
For''history has no mercy''

The branchs left behind
Shriek and wail, and
The thorns start weeping...

Don't say to them
About blossoms and brutality,
About a mother's lost love,
Unless the calm of the Egyptian
Will vanish, and the mysterious smile melt....

poem by Feroz Rather
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History is a living horse laughing at a wooden horse. History is a wind blowing where it listeth. History is no sure thing to bet on. History is a box of tricks with a lost key. History is a labyrinth of doors with sliding panels, a book of ciphers with the code in a cave of the Saragossa sea. History says, if it pleases, Excuse me, I beg your pardon, it will never happen again if I can help it.

quote by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black History Month

In January...
There they are making history.
In February...
There they are making history.
In March...
There they are making history.
In April...
There they are making history.
In May...
There they are making history.
In June...
There they are making history.
In July...
There they are making history.
In August...
There they are making history.
In September...
There they are making history.
In October...
There they are making history.
In November...
There they are making history.
In December...
There they are making history.

But...
It's nice to know
The shortest month of the year
Was chosen to celebrate
The great deeds of African-Americans!
However...
It is those LEAP YEARS,
That really have the blacks jumping for joy!

Note: 'Black History Month' along with other
works of interest can be found in...

*'MindPrints from Untouched Places-VOL I'*
~Now available online at a PC near you~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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History why do we care

History
a famous person dies
History
a war rages
History
a new invention
History
a building opens
History
what happens if something happens to me
is that history?
no....
So why do we care.....

poem by Andrea Thepoet
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What Have We Learned From History

What have we learned from history little if anything
Of war men and war heroes their praises we still sing
Humankind have come far in technology and on the moon surface have trod
And still we fight for our Nation's flag and go to war for our God.

What have we learned from history not much if you ask me
We still have wars and famines and we still have poverty
And we still have this awful thing called ethnic cleansing and we still have refugees
And we still wage war on Mother Earth and we still pollute her seas.

What have we learned from history if anything at all
Before the baby has to walk the baby has to learn to crawl
And life is just a learning curve or so we have been told
But few of those who lack wisdom in their twenties grow wiser as they grow old.

What have we learned from history we have learned to populate
And by bulldozing more virgin woodlands more diseases we create
We pollute Mother Earth who feeds us and our successes seem so few
And that the World would do nicely without us only happens to be true.

What have we learned from history go ask one wiser than I
The World is far more polluted now than when I was a boy
And history has a habit of repeating itself a wise one once did say
And I've not learned from history though I grow old and gray.

poem by Francis Duggan
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You Became My History

You were once a mystery,
The one I loved to solve.
Deciphering your code,
Always got me lost.
I thought of understanding you more,
But before I realised it,
You became my history.

You were once a mystery,
Discovering you was a thrill,
Every puzzle I put together,
Granted me fulfilment,
But as time flew by,
you became my history.

You were once a mystery,
Every clue brought me closer,
Every step brought me nearer,
Only to make me smile,
I thrived on your addiction
But after a while,
You became my history.

You were once a mystery,
the very foundation that kept me stable,
Once I comprehended you, I began to feel able,
You were the ocean to my boat,
The cell to my system,
However, even without the distance,
You became my history.

You were once a mystery,
Clouded in question marks,
Trying to understand,
Trying to comprehend,
I was left with numerous thoughts,
The more I tried, the more I learnt,
The less I craved, and before I knew it,
You became my history.

poem by Zushan Hashmi
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Mr. protection

I am the face of misery

I am the cause of sympathy

I will erase all your memories
Cause I am history

I am the history of slavery

I am the history for Germany

I am the one with no mercy

I am at the mercy of starvation
Fighting my reincarnation

I carry out my annihilation
I strike back with no hesitation

While imitating the wrath of intimidation
I plan out my assassination.

poem by Beethovens laguerre
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History!

Spoken words are history
Records of some remain a mystery

And when today and tomorrow
Row bitterly over yesterday
Today will become history
With just an empty space
Enlightened by a darkened face

History reminds me of a repetition of events
Dancing to the rhythm of the same kind of achievements

A battle is won or lost
Every love or hatred will eventually be buried in dust

I love you
You love me
Soon our love goes down in history
Someone else will find love a new discovery

So the theory behind is history
Is to have a story that commands all glory
For the inevitable past that will last!

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Were History

You look to me for some outstanding meaning
You got the devil in your eyes and nothing in your soul
If you think Im gonna sell myself, then you must be dreaming
Theres no way, Im gonna fall into your hole
You never seem to help me when Im bleeding
You gotta knife for a tongue and youre tearing at my heart
I thought you were a friend, but in truth you never liked me
You lied and cheated us from the start
You are wrong, love doesnt last forever
Youre nothing new there is no mystery
Now youre gone you thought you were so clever
You and me are now history, were history...
Solo
I dont like your face
I dont like your eyes
I dont like your lips, I hate your lies
This times the last time its goodbye time
You are wrong, love doesnt last forever
Youre nothing new there is no mystery
Now youre gone you thought you were so clever
You and me are now history, were history...
Were history, were history
I dont need you and I dont care
Were history, were history...

song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Page of my History

Some laughs some tears
This is it, its what we feared

We are going our separate ways
Things getting easier by the days

You’re now a page of my history

Many days of adventure and fun
But we both know we aren’t the one

The pain eases so very slow
But it’s for the best and we know it

You’re now a page of my history

The not knowing is the mystery
But us being together is history

We will get over the misery
Even though I miss yee

You’re now a page of my history

We gave it our best shot
But it was a game we lost

Our love is lost but never gone
We will find a place to keep it safe

You’re now a page of my history

poem by Stephanie Mcgrath
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The History Teacher

Woman!

Where exactly
Did you put me
In the women's history?

Am I History?
Or a part of it?

And for how long you are lacking me in;
Between
Your History,
Women's History, and
Your archives?

Does time make sense to you
As a History teacher or
As a History professor?

Cause', History, buying time, and rejuvenation
Are for emperors.

Are you making me
An emperor?

Or a Faeroe?
If so,
How precise your are?

And if you can't feel my present presence
how possibility could you feel me through your archives?

poem by Atef Ayadi
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History

History strives with history to embark on pleasant news,
Events change the times, as if history is to lose.

poem by Naveed Akram
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We Affect Forever

We Affect Forever

We are making history, through every day we spend.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark that will not end.
Others before have left behind this world we now obtain.
Though it’s changed since way back when, the old shall always remain.
History is how we got here, history is who we are.
History is what led to this, yes history is not far.
It remains within our families, its tradition and unchanging ways.
It’s Christmas day, Thanksgiving, its countless nights and days.
History is what you’re becoming; it’s what you are soon to be.
And history never dies; it’s a part of everybody.
We fight to maintain who we are, to maintain who we’ve always been.
And while we fight we know this fight is not easy to win.
Many forget the past, and many never even know,
Many people never hear of how times were long ago.
Those thousands of years before us, are more than just time spent.
They are filled with real people, real feelings, and real places that they went.
The People had different life styles very different from our ways,
But it is true that there is nothing knew under the sun’s golden rays.
Stand proud to be alive, know you affect forever.
Every act that we commit we all commit together.
We are entrusted with this earth; we must love and cherish this life.
We must remember to love our existence lest love becomes our strife.
Yes we are becoming history, through every move we make.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark ……or perhaps a mistake.

poem by Mary Murphy
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The ugly human face

Wailing with tears and
Helplessly in commotion,
All of you’re telling to write
The history of hatred, enmity, killings,
The history of human ugly face.

My pen is dried up,
Tell me in which medium,
And language should I write.
Where to begin and
Where to end
Such history of human ugly face.

Oh! Betrayer
You’re telling me to wipe out from the history
Of such human ugly face,
That shattered and shook human conscience,
That haunts the face of those innocent people,
Killed and hurt; widows and orphans.
That hums: that reminds.

Telling me just to close my eyes.
But I’m not blind.
Telling me not to speak,
But I’m not dumb.
Telling me not to write the truth,
But I cannot write anything but the truth.
How can I deceive the history where I belong?

Human memory is short,
Tears would dry up,
The blood would be washed away with time
But the silent words, written in the heart of each human ugly face
Imbedded forever and immortal.

Let me dip the pen in the smeared blood,
The blood of all religions, caste, creed and colour, poor and rich,
The thick blood of those innocent persons.

poem by Dr.bhagya Chandra Rajkumar
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Take me to History,

Take me to History,
Take me to History and never see the mistakes,
Take me to that Killings,
Moving on silent,
Like I never knew all that I was doing,
It was mine,
That you saw the your’s coming in the World,
It was Written,
That your’s was never taken,

Take me to History,
That you never meant to Kill Christ,
Humanity is going to foolishness in losing one sheep,
Death is gonna be easy cause life is Hard,
Take me to History,
That the Cowards of Truth will never see the son,
Whatsoever Conquers,
Is the son that is never determined to lose?
It ain’t hard to tell,
That the lacing was all black,
The lace was more than never enough,
You are not the dude that is all losing like foolishness.

poem by Maxim Muyu
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Our History

If my history would end here
I know
your history will begin.

Our history
happens not at the same time
how I wish I could see
what history you will make.

If my history would end here
I know
your history will begin.

poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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On Passing Cromwell Street

In Melbourne streets named in his honour though he does not warrant such fame
For he lived a life of dishonour yet he never felt any shame
For his crimes against the poor of Ireland the winners write the history they say
And historians are too kind to Cromwell the one who did awful things in his day.

He evicted the poor of rural Ireland those who only knew of poverty
And put them on the hard road to Connacht the victims of crimes against humanity
His army were thugs and not soldiers for they did things that soldiers ought not do
The winners always write the history though their version of history is often not true.

In Cromwell's time the winners wrote the history and the winners still write the history today
But for any crimes against humanity the winners too should be made to pay
But Cromwell and his army honoured for their crimes in Ireland against the poor defenceless poor
'Tis sad to think that one so unworthy of a place in history is secure.

To hell or to Connacht his catch cry he forced thousands of poor families on the road
To people who were penniless and innocent not one scrap of mercy he showed
Thousands of them died in the harsh Irish Winter when homelessness on them took it's toll
Because they were poor they were punished though their life circumstances beyond their control.

I think of the untruths of history each time I drive by Cromwell street
The history written by winners their history of lies and deceit
I say to myself they honour a tyrant and I struggle for to understand
Why they name a street after somebody who oppressed the poor of Ireland.

Andrew Marvell in verse glorified Cromwell but he was one who would not know
What Cromwell and his army got up to in Ireland in those bleak times centuries ago
But he only believed what they told him and they told him what he wanted to hear
History often written by unworthy people those who rule by terror and fear.

In Melbourne streets named in his honour his poor victims long forgotten and gone
Into the World of the forgotten but Cromwell's fame is living on
And the lessons we should have learned from history did not lead to a fair go for all
And the winners only write the story though the real truth they never recall.

poem by Francis Duggan
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~ His[s]tory ~

History Maker ~ Fossilized Custodian
History Breaker ~ Reckless Bohemian
History Reformer ~ Abortive Artisan
History Seeker ~ Obsessive Varifocalian
History Writer ~ Hyperbolic Historian
History Critique ~ Diplomatic Confucian
History Reader ~ Befuddled Bookman.

Better Opt For ~ Gymnastic Geography
Enjoy Floor Exercise ~ In Poetry.

Won’t You?

If Not Check Cervical Spine
For Etiology Of Vertigo Sign.

==
Glossary: Humbly given for what I tried to express: ~
Varifocalian: Metaphorically used relating to a lens that is graduated to permit any length of vision between near and distant.

poem by Ms. Nivedita Bagchi Spc. Uk.
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Dont Stop For No-one

Dont stop for no-one
And then it goes on
(repeat 3 times)
One day my father said to me
its time for you to leave,
But dont wait for me, its pre-destiny
Dont wait around for someone to believe in
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Just like moses waiting on the mountain
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Dont hang around in the babylonian gardens
You know, history dont stop for no-one
(? ) tourist attraction
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Dont stop for no-one
And then it goes on
(repeat)
Sometimes I told I must confess
To a life of tenderness
But I just repeat what he said to me:
dont close your eyes because seeing is believing
You know, history dont stop for no-one
(? ) child, fighting for a meaning
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Dont dream too long, its time to awake now
You know, history dont stop for no-one
Like sleeping lucy waiting for a kiss now
You know, history dont stop for no-one
I think you know the way its gonna go now
You know, history dont stop for no-one
From aztech kings to new york queens
And then it goes on

song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The very concept of history implies the scholar and the reader. Without a generation of civilized people to study history, to preserve its records, to absorb its lessons and relate them to its own problems, history, too, would lose its meaning.

quote by George Frost Kennan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blackstars of beautiful twilight

Winding all the black thoughts of the golden children upon the lost divinity
Enriching the black history of warm words and the soulful sounds of silent dignity
Lining all the black rimes to the history walls painted by the cold face of humanity
Igniting the black sparks of the twisted science of reality upon these cold swords of invalidity
Looking towards the bright future of the black poetry, we proudly declare the shine of cold thought mortality
Enhancing the forever shine of all Blackstrars, brings about my finding of true serenity
Blackstrars of beautiful twilight shine upon my forever...spark the joy and pride upon my black mind
Blackstrars of beautiful twilight shine upon the land of my black history and dreams, be the vision and true joy of my black kind.

poem by Sicelo Sithole
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