En.Citatepedia^®.ro

To A Cow In Mourning

It aches my heart to hear you mourn poor cow
And i would help you if i could somehow
But only God can resurrect your son
Who has fallen victim of the butcher's gun.

You've mourned since afternoon of saturday
When men from you took fatted calf away
And since saturday all but five days ago
You've lived beneath a cloud of grief and woe.

Your mournful bellows tell of painful ache
In heart that must be very near to break
And the forlorn face and the sad eyed look that tell
Of creature who has lived four days of hell.

Today a wealthy Townman sit and eat
And masticate your offspring's tender meat
And say to wife 'darling the meat taste nice'
It's prime beef like this make meat seem worth it's price.

And your farmer owner he doesn't even care
Of the grief that pains you he seem unaware
He doesn't feel moved by bovine moans or tears
And your mournful bellows fall on heedles ears.

But the only cure for grief and dismal pine
Is the proven and the age old healer time
And time poor cow will help make you forget
That son you loved whom butcher shot to death.

poem by Francis Duggan
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I Know This Poor Bloke

I know this poor bloke in the mood for suicide
And he has felt heavy hearted since the day his wife died
Some five years ago his ache of loss from him not gone
And till the day of his death his grief with him will live on.

I do meet him often though not every day
And for words to him I always feel stuck to say
He always talks of his dead wife and the grief that he feel
And for him I feel sorry since his sorrow is real.

On his sense of loss with him I sympathize
And each time I see him he has tears in his eyes
My condolences to him I already did pay
But the grief that he feels it is with him to stay.

The price of true love it can come at a great cost
And he is left to mourn for what he has lost
One in his late sixties his hair silvery gray
And the clock on his life it is ticking away.

A man due to grief in the mood for suicide
Though he is one now I would rather avoid
Since each time I meet him he talks of his dead wife
And I am one who needs laughter in my life.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Softly, O! dropp mine eyes

Softly, O! dropp mine eyes, lest you be dry,
And make my heart with grief to melt and die.
Now pour out tears apace,
Now stay, O heavy case!
O sour sweet woe!
Alas! O grief! O joy! Why strive you so?
Can griefs and joys at once in one poor heart consent?
Then sigh and sing, rejoice, lament.
Ah me! O passions strange and violent!
Was never poor wretch so tormented:
Nor joy, nor grief can make my heart contented.
For while with joy I look on high,
Down, down I fall with grief, and die.

poem by John Wilbye
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What old sadness can I let go of by sharing it today

How can we measure the grief we feel and and how we could put up with it. Doesn't the grief of death weight a ton or more. Doesn't it strenth out to a month a year or still longer. Is the grief of failture lighter then then the grief of empyness. Wheather we try to ingore or make light of it our grief like a ton of feathers or a ton of rocks is all the same to us. This much is sure if we lock our grief it will weight more on us. Andlengthen out if we open our hearts with weeping and words others will help carry it away. written and Posted 1/1/10

poem by Susie Sunshine
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A grief ago

'There is no grief
which time does not lessen
or soften' -
so said Cicero, a man so often right;
a Stoic, those for whom
all life presents a lesson
to be learned from,
and then, to move on from..

But I wonder about all this:
is grief ever lessened or softened?
Is it not, perhaps, overlaid
in our so various ways?

For some, grief framed and falsified
to ease that grief;

For some, like hyacinths and crocus bulbs,
left in a dark cupboard in the autumn of our grief
to respond to time, and
become at last
themselves?

gently, gently, the covers pulled
over the loving bed,
the true, the pure, the lovely painful grief,
the memory deep cherished,
gently, gently, folded
into the cupboards of the heart

there to be known, without the door disturbed
until the time - 'a grief ago' as Dylan wrote -
the cupboard opened only for love's sake
without grief...:
those carefully folded memories
brought out and loved
and lived a while...

not grief, not grief...but
the pure memory of grief

and behold,
life.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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For Molly, Concerning God

Is God the one who eats the meat
off the bones of dead people?
-Molly Miranda Jong-Fast, age 3 1/2

God is the one,
Molly,
whether we call him
Him,
or Her,
treeform or spewing
volcano,
Vesuvius or vulva,
penis-rock,
or reindeer-on-cave-wall,
God is the one
who eats
our meat,
Molly,
& we yield
our meat
up willingly.

Meat is our
element,
meat is our
lesson.

When our bodies fill
with each other,
when our blood swells
in our organs
aching for another,
body of meat,
heart of meat,
soul of meat,
we are only doing
what God wants
us to—
meat joining meat
to become insubstantial air,
meat fusing
with meat
to make
a small wonder
like you.
The wonder of you
is that you push
our questions
along into
the future—
so that I know
again
the wonder of meat
through you,
the wonder of meat
turning to philosophy,
the wonder of meat
transubstantiated
into poetry,
the wonder of
sky-blue meat
in your roundest eyes,
the wonder of
dawn-colored meat
in your cheeks & palms,
the wonder of meat
becoming
air.

You
are my theorem,
my proof,
my meaty metaphysics,
my little questioner,
my small Socrates
of the nursery-schoolyard.

To think that
such wonder
can come from meat!

Well then,
if God is hungry—
let Him eat,
let Her eat.

poem by Erica Jong
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Petrified lamb

The petrified lamb shivered
It wailed in vain
Searching for the herd
He was separated from
But no one was in sight

The poor animal cried all night
The biting cold was hurting him
Tied to a pole near a ramshackle
Meat shop he felt lonely
He was sold to a butcher
By the villager who always
Used to fondle him while grazing
How could he be so cruel
Thought the poor lamb

Even before the butcher came
Customers reached the shop
To buy fresh stock of meat
The poor animal felt
Someone would rescue him
From this precarious predicament

Not knowing the fate in store for him

The butcher came with his son in tow
Sharpened the knife
On a block of stone
Held the poor lamb to the ground
And slit its throat

Fountain of blood
Was on the floor
The lamb struggled
Before lying dead on the ground

Skinned, cleaned and hung
Upside down
Ready for buyers to select
The portions that they
Liked to buy
What a horrible scene
Repeated every day
On poor mute creatures
Who like us
Would like to live

poem by Vijay Menon
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Hope in Heaven's Day

Grief be mine, I ask you so,
If not for you, I wouldn't know,
How life once was and then be still,
How so precious, that death do steal.
Because that grief, won't go away,
Learn to let it have its way.
The link to love, a precious one,
Is met with grief and still not done.
The days do come, and nights do go,
Grief will stay as time is so.
And so a loved one passes on,
And grief comes in and carries on.
Does grief get better, I will ask,
It's hard to say, while at its task.
There is grief to help us cope,
There is God to give us hope.
Grief will surely go away,
On that glorious heaven's day.
But while its here, there's just one thing,
Pray our Lord, for peace he'll bring.

poem by Arlene Dery
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The Butcher's Shop - UK Style

Legs, Shoulders, Ribs and Shanks,
Chops, Sirloins, Breasts and Flanks,
These are all 'meats' of the Butcher's trade,
Where lots of delicious 'things' are made.

Hams, Pies, Pickles and Stuffing,
No I am really not bluffing,
Chicken, Goose, Turkey and Duck,
To buy these things you need some 'pluck'.

With these 'meats' you need to know,
How to steam and roast, real slow,
How to fry, simmer and grill,
It can be quite a difficult skill.

But the kindly Butcher will help you out,
You really only have to shout,
He knows the cuts, has all the info,
With all his knowledge, he's a real pro.

He knows how long to cook things for,
How the baste and how to score
The pork, so that lovely 'crackling' can be had,
Now think of it! That can't be bad.

There's livers, kidneys and chitterlings which,
Grab the taste buds, gee they're rich,
Bacon, sausages and corned beef slices,
Some with garlic, some with spices.

Whatever you like, it's all ready for you.
Even if you have to queue,
It's worth the wait, for what you'll get
It'll melt in the mouth, that I can bet!

Your friendly Butcher is a capable chap,
He'll answer your questions without a flap,
So try all his produce, the flavours are great,
You'll never have anything left on your plate.

There's variety beyond belief,
Try any 'meat' you'll come to no grief,
The choice is amazing, the recipes fab,
There's always a choice on the Butcher's slab.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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One Meat Ball

(l. singer-h.zaret)
The little man walked up and down
To find an eating place in town
He read the menu through and through
To see what fifteen cents could do
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, he could afford but one meat ball
He told the waiter near at hand
A simple dinner he had planned
The guests were startled one and all to hear
That waiter loudly call
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, this here gent wants one meat ball
Little man felt very bad
One meat ball was all he had
And in his dreams he hears that call
Ya gets no bread with one meat ball
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, you get no bread with one meat ball
Well, he could afford but one meat ball
One meat ball, one meat ball
All he could afford was one meat ball
One meat ball

song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In my closet

In throes of grief wit no pal nigh
my aches let out in trembling sigh
no hi from all my dearie pals
they all and sundry wandering far

just alone with me an I
no one to help dry my tearfilled eye
bleeding heart and griefsick mind
not a joy around to find

grief sticking like a second skin
sticking closer than a next of kin
so much pains for my lowly age
leaving me pleading for a saving grace

a grace to help end my painful seige
in which im so clamped in grief
so at least my tears would cease
and my pains could really ease.

poem by Saintdc Reward
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Beyond the grief.

It seems as if we are stalled by our grief,
unable to move away from it – and I wonder
if we will ever get over the loss of you. In time
they say we will, that one day we will finally be free
of the sadness that burdens our hearts, and we will dance
in our remembrance, and there will be no more tears.

But if that's true, I must admit I will miss the tears
when there is an eventual easing of the grief.
I am not as eager to begin the dance
of life without you, for the world has lost its wonder
for me, some of its shine - and being free
seems awfully relative - I suppose just like time.

I can still so clearly recall the last time
we were all together - the tears
we shared, even laughter, when you were set free
of this earthly pain - and even in our grief,
we were filled with such wonder
as we witnessed the end of life's dance.

When I was a little boy you used to let me dance
on the top of your shoes, moving in time
to the music on the radio. Is it any wonder
that music, to this day, brings tears
of joy, mingled with the ever-present grief,
which still has not set me completely free.

I now realize there is a cost to love; it's not free -
for when you love, you buy a ticket to the dance
of life - which comes with joy and pain, celebration and grief.
And if you have lived a long enough time,
as I have, even when the loss brings never ending tears,
with a broken heart, it's worth all of the pain, and it's no wonder

people love so fiercely - so much so that they cease to wonder
about the why, when or where - and now I realize that I am free
to love, and to lose, which will bring with it many tears.
But each tear is worth it - and seems to make the dance
more authentic. In the end, I will measure my time
by how much of it was filled with love, and with grief.

No longer will I wonder whether or not I should dance,
I will just be free, stepping in and out of time,
wearing my tears like a badge of honor as I move beyond the grief.

poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Grief Promise Me To Leave ' Part 1

It’s a conversation between my heart and my grief at the same time
GRIEF PROMISE ME TO LEAVE (PART 1)

My heart: you promised me in the last days that you are leaving me
My grief: I loved your spirit; I found my settlement and safe in it and I
Think I will stay forever
My heart: but you promised me, and here you are broken your promise to me
My grief: I felt that you always need me so I took eternal place inside you
My heart: I didn’t need you in fact I’m tired of your vicinage to me
My grief: no you didn't see anything from me until now, it's just the beginning
My heart: what's wrong with you, you always by my side? Why you prevent the happiness to get inside my heart? And if it came in, you you will gave her only five seconds why?
My grief: I used on your broken heart
My heart: isn't there another hearts to live in it why mine?
My grief: yes there is, but I (ardent love) your soul
My heart: please go away; go away, my yearning will kill me...
My grief: ask your self? Is it possible leaving a heart his desire grief?
My heart: find another me, there is a lot of hearts are waiting
My grief: I can't? Because I lived in a heart his beatings get used on me
My heart: please mercy my wounds
My grief: I’m sorry, but this is our life
My heart: mercy my tears, my eyes dry out cause of you
My grief: I can't leave you
My heart: my friends abandon me
My grief: then they are not your friends
My heart: they left me alone and broken sitting on your chair
My grief: don't worry you are the victorious
My heart: I miss them
My grief: they are not useful for you? Cause I reside in you when you know them

Quiet
My grief controlling totally in my heart now

My heart: you are like the sword cutting me every time you come near, but I will be patient, yes I will be patient for you grief, I will...
My grief made a mockery laughing

My grief: the age rewarding me for this

My heart closed his eyes in a silent way... wait... there is a (happiness whisper) comes and cross me silently, but its mute cause the grief was controlling me totally.

happiness whisper: forgive me my friend i have no place between you, I’m died from along long time, I just came to see is grief still in your heart or he left you so I can take a place between your heart, forgive me my friend the grief is my master.

The conversation is so quiet and the calmness spread through them

My heart: don't leave me like that, come to me just for a moment I wanna taste your happiness that you got between your whispers.

Happiness whisper has left me in silent and quiet way

my heart: where are you my grief come to me, come to my heart that you used to be always, give me new promise, then may be you will reside in a heart for someone else me.
My grief: I will leave you just in one case? When I see the world opened his armful for happiness, love, and safe. In that time I want you give me the signal to leave you! !

My grief is killing my heart now

My grief: now I want you hear me your words about love that you kept torturing me in it
My heart: ok. You are the only one I’ve got now

Trust me
Cause I know the pain...
The pain is over here and over there,
Pain in my heart pain in my soul,
Pain in my skin pain in my bones...
Trust me
Cause I know the cold nights...
It’s when my heart freezing, my eyes clouded and I won't close it,
Cause I scared to see the darkness and fell the silence,
oh my God I’m closing my eyes, I can't take it any more ahhhh.....
Now I’m afraid to open it cause I don't want be alone again...
Trust me
Cause I know the loneliness...
It’s when I don't get to hear from you,
Loneliness when I know you are not here by my side,
Loneliness when I’m thinking silently about you...
Trust me
Cause I know my soul...
It’s smashed to three parts,
The first is happy,
The sec is sad,
The third is full of misery,
Ahhh... now I can fell in my soul,
Happiness was never meant for me...
Trust me
Cause I know my heart...
Aches...
Broken...
Scattered around...
Ahhh.... my heart is killing me...
My heart need to heal by some glue...
All of that because of.... ahah (keep chocking) .

My grief: enough, enough, what is all that! !
My heart: you put in me the eternal grief, you put in me the unceasing yearning, you put in me all the kinds of illusions and more, so take it it's yours....
My grief: I will leave you now my friend; I will leave you my friend.
But I want you remember that a part of me will stay in you forever…

poem by Damn Angel
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A Haunted Song

Beneath this citadel of broken dreams
The hollow dungeons lie,
Each night you hear the awful screams
While the moon bellows in the sky.

There is no hope for Maud and me,
We know we're going to die,
No saint will come and set us free
While the moon bellows in the sky.

We've spent our love and shed our tears
And heard the angels sigh,
No-one will ever count our years
While the moon bellows in the sky.

So now you know why old men weep
And little children cry,
They block their ears and cannot sleep
While the moon bellows in the sky.

poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Dark Trinity

Said I to Pain: "You would not dare
Do ill to me."
Said Pain: "Poor fool! Why should I care
Whom you may be?
To clown and king alike I bring
My meed of bane;
Why should you shirk my chastening?"
Said Pain.

Said I to Grief: "No tears have I,
Go on your way."
Said Grief: "Why should I pass you by,
While others pay?
All men must know the way of woe,
From saint to thief,
And tears were meant to overflow,"
Said Grief.

Said I to Death: "From ail and fret
Grant me relief."
Said Death: "I know you are beset
By Pain and Grief.
But my good will you must await
Since human breath
To suffering is consecrate,"
Said Death.

Said I to God: "Pale Sister Grief,
Bleak Brother Pain,
Bedevil me beyond belief,
And Death's unfain . . ."
Said God: "Curse not that blessed Three,
Poor human clod!
Have faith! Believe the One with Me,"
Said God.

poem by Robert William Service
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Love Doesn't End With Death

Love doesn’t end with death, Mother
Said. A few days had gone since Father’s
Demise and you stood in their room
While she sat on her bed and did her hair.
She stopped in mid brush and cried.
I wish it was me, you said, at least then
You’d still have him to love. She looked
Round at you and said, then I’d be grieving
For you. It’s still grief no matter who
Goes or stays, she said. She wiped her
Eyes and brushed her hair once more
Looking at herself in the mirror. We never
Appreciate the time we have with people
Until they’ve gone, she muttered, half to
Herself and half to you. Ordinary days are
Best because they’re more plentiful,
She continued, looking at you through
The mirror’s view. You noticed the first grey
Hairs appearing where she’d brushed last,
Sitting there amongst hairs brunette.
Now she sits unaware of days gone by
Or grief; dementia’s done its work so well
That all is wiped clean from brain and head.
She’s unaware of being alive herself let
Alone Father not being there or being dead.

poem by Terry Collett
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Farewell

`

grief belies this despised state
hunched upon shuffling feet
pondering the crunch of
browned leaves

grief burrows this desiccated soil
hidden beneath scurrying paws
forgetting the crush of
billowy waves

grief bruises this demented breath
hollowed out withered lips
releasing the fluttering wings
cotton-downed doves

grief bellows across horizons
herding the flock from grazing
shackling the gates
embracing the nightfall

`

poem by Frederick Kesner
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Didn't He Ramble

Didn't he ramble.... he rambled
Rambled all around.... in and out of town
Didn't he ramble....didn't he ramble
He rambled till the butcher cut him down
His feet was in the market place..his head was in the street
Lady pass him by, said..look at the market meat
He grabbed her pocket book..and said i wish you well
She pulled out a forty-five..said i'm head of personnel
Didn't he ramble...i said he rambled
Rambled all around...in and out of town
Didn't he ramble...oh didn't he ramble
He rambled till the butcher shot him down
(instrumental break)
He slipped into the cat house..made love to the stable
Madam caught him cold..said i'll pay you when i be able
Six months had passed ..and she stood all she could stand
She said buddy when i'm through with you
Ole groundhog gonna be shakin yo' hand
And didn't he ramble...he rambled
Rambled all around...in and out of town
Oh didn't he ramble......he rambled
You know he rambled...till the butcher...cut him down
I said he rambled..lord...'till the butcher shot him down

song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As Free As A Fox?

The fox, of course, was born with teeth that one day would be used!
Designed to hunt and cause some grief and so it's been accused!
Who owns the land on which it stalks the prey it needs to live?
Is it the man who's tamed the hawks and dogs that won't forgive?
Is it the man that rides the land on horses six feet tall?
Or is it God who knows it's manned who truly owns it all?
God doesn't ask us for advice to say what must be done.
He simply tells us to be nice and not make killing 'fun'.
He won't condemn if we eat meat, give thanks and praise the Lord!
Yet Man is more than food we eat, for all of us are flawed.
What does God want the fox to do? Eat vegetables instead?
Just like a cow that's forced to chew the grass beneath its head?
God made the fox 'as is', OK? It's got four legs not two...
God gave us brains to use each day! And so, what should we do?
Put all the foxes into jails? Life sentences enough?
Or simply death 'if all else fails' when Man likes 'sport' not love?

poem by Denis Martindale
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One Mans Meat

Cold beer and a strange cigarette
Getting you high getting you wet
Falling in love falling out of debt
Straight gay black or white
Strutting in the dark hiding in the light
Doing it wrong doing it right just doing it
You got your life on the one hand
Mine in the other
I got the right we all got the right
One mans meat is the other mans lousy luck
One mans meat is someones empty well
One mans meat is some guys aching butt
One mans meat is another mans living hell
Short fat thick or thin
Take it in the gut take it on the chin
Living in glory living in sin
Hard days work going down slow
Riding the road where the greengrass grows
Watching in die what dyou know
Watch it
You got your life on the one hand
Mine in the other
I got the right
One mans meat is the other mans lousy luck
One mans meat is someones empty well
One mans meat is some guys aching butt
One mans meat is another mans living hell

song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Mum Is An Excellent Cook

My mum is an excellent cook
But she doesn’t make good food everyday
We eat special things all the time
Is what my friends feel and say
They keep telling me to bring
Special food to school
But having stomach aches everyday
Is what I do not think cool
When someone reminded me of
Mom made Pizza, chocolates and meat
Now I don’t care of stomachache
All I want to do is eat!

poem by Risha Ahmed
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