Marie-Rose de Beauharnais 1795
To what shall I liken thee?
An angel in realms above,
a mermaid in Oceans beneath,
a costly stone in the fiercest
contention sought for,
or even a costly diamond in the
earth's elusive epicentre buried?
Your beauty is a turning point
reference in your amazing book
of chronicles.
poem by Joseph C Ogbonna (13 May 2021)
Submitted by Joseph C Ogbonna
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Related quotes
Costly
Costly life costly time
Truth is costly life is costly.
No one can say
The exact cost of life
No one can investigate
What is life
No one can speak
Bare truth of life
No one can
No one can.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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And, perhaps most importantly, regional conflicts will again and again confront us with a cruel choice between costly engagement and costly indifference.
quote by Lord Robertson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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River Arnon
River Arnon, i am writing that you may read;
'Israyl is my son and my first-born'.
Of the foreskin,
Of the circumcision,
Of the blood;
Like a flame of fire from within a bush in Mount Horeb.
Who gave man his mouth?
Who gave woman her mouth?
Now do use straw to make bricks and learn from it,
For i am on three days journey into the desert.
Of the Book of the Chronicles of the Kings of Israyl,
Of the Book of the Chronicles of the Africans
Of the Book of the Chronicles of Ghana,
Of the Book of the Chronicles of my clan,
Your son succeeded you and my son will succeed me as well.
River Arnon, i am writing that you may read;
For their gods will be thorns by your side!
Hear oh sweet river,
Listen all you who have ears;
Let us put the Earth into a better shape.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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So Close To Love
Too close to love!
Yet it's,
Costly to keep.
And it's,
Too costly to leave it.
So close to love.
I prayed with faith to get it.
Never knowing love would be 'that' close.
Never knowing I would love it most.
Too close to love!
Yet it's,
Costly to keep.
And it's,
Too costly to leave it.
Too close to love!
Yet it's,
Costly to keep.
And it's,
Too costly to leave it.
So close to love.
Never knowing love would be 'that' close.
Never knowing I would love it most.
And I'm,
So close to love.
Never knowing love would be 'that' close.
Never knowing I would love it most.
Too close to love!
Yet it's,
Costly to keep.
And it's,
Too costly to leave it.
So close to love.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Spiritually Costly
It has been spiritually costly,
For the status quo to adopt policies...
That has kept racist inequities,
Unchecked.
Without reflecting.
Or introspectively accepting.
And keeping ignorant beliefs,
A segment of their population suppressed...
In an oppressive freedom,
That advances irresponsibility.
And with excuses made to feed...
Upon perceptions that leaves them,
Feeling rejected and in dire need.
To be left convinced...
Staying to pray on their knees,
Saves their souls.
It has been spiritually costly,
For them not to participate...
In the upgrading of a mindset,
That does not compensate...
Those that do not initiate respect.
With a protection done,
Not of benefit to anyone.
It has been spiritually costly,
For them not to insist...
An advantage is received,
By those with desires to relieve themselves
Of fantasies.
And to live life right,
Is to forgive.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Elusiveness of Love
oh Divine love, Oh divine love,
why do thee seem elusive,
why do thee seem so difficult to be found,
people sought for Nirvana, Moksha, salavation and a handful of them attain it,
but oh dear love, thee seems elusive in thine eyes,
reflection of my younger days tells me of love and its great works,
wherein i read of love overwhelming over evrything,
as i read my Holy book 'The Bible', it tells me of the love which never failed,
love being kind,
love being gentle,
love being not self seeking,
love being not rebellious,
love being not rude,
and love standing all the test of time...
and believing love was created by God to triumph over hate, despise, envy, discontent, resentment, slanders,
conspires, rebellism, covetousness, trails, tribulations......
those great words drives me to the land of imaginations,
and i fancy myself of being a part of love and a guardian,
i' am old enough now,
and i love,
and i stand in that same phase,
which i fancied once as a child,
but the heroism of the fantasy land doesn't seem to work on me as of now,
as i stand, i shiver and shudder,
cause love don't love thee,
love don't embrace thee,
love afflicts thee,
love agonize thee,
love leads me to anguishness,
but i still try to stand,
though love don't love thee,
cos i believe one day love will triumph,
love and love will remain,
when everything perishes,
how great love is,
though seems elusive.
though seems elusive.
poem by Sukkum Chang
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A Ballad
In a costly palace Youth goes clad in gold;
In a wretched workhouse Age's limbs are cold:
There they sit, the old men by a shivering fire,
Still close and closer cowering, warmth is their desire.
In a costly palace, when the brave gallants dine,
They have store of good venison, with old canary wine,
With singing and music to heighten the cheer;
Coarse bits, with grudging, are the pauper's best fare.
In a costly palace Youth is still carest
By a train of attendants which laugh at my young Lord's jest;
In a wretched workhouse the contrary prevails:
Does Age begin to prattle?-no man heark'neth to his tales.
In a costly palace if the child with a pin
Do but chance to prick a finger, straight the doctor is called in;
In a wretched workhouse men are left to perish
For want of proper cordials, which their old age might cherish.
In a costly palace Youth enjoys his lust;
In a wretched workhouse Age, in corners thrust,
Think upon the former days, when he was well to do,
Had children to stand by him, both friends and kinsmen too.
In a costly palace Youth his temples hides
With a new devised peruke that reaches to his sides;
In a wretched workhouse Age's crown is bare,
With a few thin locks just to fence out the cold air.
In peace, as in war, 'tis our young gallants' pride,
To walk, each one i' the streets, with a rapier by his side,
That none to do them injury may have pretence;
Wretched Age, in poverty, must brook offence.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Sun Goes Down
(GillanGloverPaiceMorseAirey)
Oh you're all looking up
With hearts of devotion
Through the dust and the heat lost to me
In a cloud of emotion
I have no motivation
To keep this breathless pace
I'm more inclined to stay here
In this breathing space
And the sun goes down
And the moon comes up
I never tried to walk the walk
'Cos the steps are elusive
The membership is too costly
And exclusive
Hey, the more I've got
The more I stand to lose
So I'm gonna unpack my bags
And take off my shoes
And the sun goes down
And the moon comes up
Let me tell you there's no point knocking
At the big oak door
Can't you see that it's all full up
They can't take no more
The line's so long
It's almost Disney
Ooh:
Wont somebody kiss me
And the sun goes down
And the moon comes up
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty and the Beast - 1014
Upon his cash she'd gloat and feast,
his mind concerned her not the least.
She from his pocket book took note,
he on her beauty hung his coat.
Was this a fair exchange, brash beast,
to beauty bound? Affection ceased.
Bright diamond river b[r]ought her vote
but could not keep creep's boat afloat.
From kowtow vow she sought release
while he refused her palms to grease,
soon each was at each other's throat
nor sought to reconcile, emote.
Too bad amoral range should [s]team:
to add a moral strange would seem.
(6 February 2006)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Den Of Demonic Dragon
Den of destruction is far away from us,
The rigours of its interior are like a mansion house.
The map shows our blunders, far too costly
For we can not arrive so early at the tomb.
A toolbox is required, for to angrily state necessities
Is far too costly, the dragons of demons are near.
We ask for a maple leaf to indicate peace
To the dragon of demons, an evil work of art.
Archangels are the arbiters of our smooth journey
To the centre of this flat world.
Archeology is asked for, the dragon is dead,
For we found its head in the middle of a mountain.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Beauty Is The Beast
beauty is the beast
upon our souls and hearts it feasts
it makes us blind to itself
behind innocent smiles it hides in stealth
yet in every place where beauty lies
the angels breath out their gentle sighs
its iron strength conquers our hearts by storm
transforming our very souls into their darkest form
to beauty does our money go, to beauty does our hearts
oh beauty it does cast its spell and triumphs over smarts
for beauty's thirst is unquenchable with habits most costly to sustain
it is beauty that calls to us and causes all our pain
and those who do escape beauty’s graceful wrath
yearn for its cursed gifts with envy doubled rather than halved
for beauty is the ugliest and foulest creature of them all
and in the end it is beauty that everything must fall
for beauty is the beast that we fight within
hence if beauty is the beast one can never win...
The Survival
To-day’s house makes to-morrow’s road;
I knew these heaps of stone
When they were walls of grace and might,
The country’s honour, art’s delight
That over fountain’d silence show’d
Fame’s final bastion.
Inheritance has found fresh work,
Disunion union breeds;
Beauty the strong, its difference lost,
Has matter fit for flood and frost.
Here’s the true blood that will not shirk
Life’s new-commanding needs.
With curious costly zeal, O man,
Raise orrery and ode;
How shines your tower, the only one
Of that especial site and stone!
And even the dream’s confusion can
Sustain to-morrow’s road.
poem by Edmund Blunden
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Some Say My Contributions Are Political
Some say my contributions are political.
With a point of view that is fixed.
But who is living to exist without religion,
Or politics?
And who believes there is an escape from this?
My writings are all about relationships.
Not one is disconnected from it.
Some may choose from their point of view,
To see a separateness.
But from where I sit,
If you are living you pay taxes...
All of it goes to the government.
And the only thing that is 'free'
Are delusions.
And even those have proven to be costly.
With some political attachment no one can deny!
Some say my contributions are political.
And I say to them...
'The point that you are making is...'what'?
And who lives not to make endorsements...
Of some kind! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Diary
Dot the I's, cross the T's
and read this once again.
Close it up. Take the key.
Lock it. Put down the pen.
This diary I will always keep
bringing to my mind
all the endless things I do
that I leave behind.
All the meaningless, tireless words
that sum up all my days
never seem to express my dear
the costly price one pays
for loving someone much too much
like I loved you.
No one will ever find your name
if some day they view
what I've written in this book,
what I did impart.
Your name ny love, I could not write.
I kept it in my heart.
So when my life is finished dear
if they come upon this book,
they won't even know you existed
for they won't know where to look.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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At Parting
Go, since you must, but, Dearest, know
That, Honour having bid you go,
Your honour, if your life be spent,
Shall have a costly monument.
This heart, that fire and roses is
Beneath the magic of your kiss,
Shall turn to marble if you die
And be your deathless effigy.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Kiss Thee Oh Angel
You stand there in but the moonlight,
your eyes shimmering in the night.
The curves of your lips,
so captivating, so enriched.
Your hair a fiery amber,
just flowing through the wind.
Kiss thee oh angel,
grant thee thy wish.
Kiss thee oh angel,
let me charrish your lips.
Kiss thee oh angel,
just one kiss i wish.
Your heavenly smile,
so gentle, so calm.
Your gentle heart,
pounding a melody in my ear.
Your hands of silk,
to brush to my cheek.
Kiss thee oh angel,
grant thee thy wish.
Kiss thee oh angel,
let me charrish your lips.
Kiss thee oh angel,
just one kiss i wish.
Let me hold you oh angel,
and show you my world.
Let me breathe you oh angel,
and show you love.
Let me dance with you oh angel,
and show you true magic.
Let me kiss you oh angel,
and prosper in joy.
poem by Darlene Belcher
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Love
Whilst tracing thy visage I sink in emotion,
For no other damsel so wond'rous I see;
Thy looks are so pleasing, thy charms so amazing,
I think of no other, my true-love, but thee.
With heart-burning rapture I gaze on thy beauty,
And fly like a bird to the boughs of a tree;
Thy looks are so pleasing, thy charms so amazing,
I fancy no other, my true-love, but thee.
Thus oft in the valley I think, and I wonder
Why cannot a maid with her lover agree?
Thy looks are so pleasing, thy charms so amazing,
I pine for no other, my true-love, but thee.
I'd fly from thy frowns with a heart full of sorrow--
Return, pretty damsel, and smile thou on me;
By every endeavor, I'll try thee forever,
And languish until I am fancied by thee.
poem by George Moses Horton
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Turning Point
Black cloud on the sun, I turned my collar up
And walked from your door up to the county road
Oh yeah, what luck, the timings been rough on us
Right then, oh boy, we hit the turning point
Three or four years or more my life was on the floor
Blind faith, hangin in, hungry and tired of it
Oh yeah, better luck--it takin over us
But right now, oh boy, weve hit the turning point
Shes had to follow me up and down these empty streets
Whiskey on her breath tryin to give the world a test
Oh yeah, better luck--it takin over us
Right now, oh boy, weve hit the turning point
Yeah right now, oh boy, weve hit the turning point
Yeah right now, oh boy, weve hit the turning point
Weve hit the turning point
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Best Book In The World
the best book
in the world
the only true book
is the world itself
the Book of Nature
the best book is the silence
the wordless-ness in
the clouds and the sky
and the rivers and the oceans
and the lands
and the grass that breaks through the concrete;
and in the deserts and the volcanoes
and the stars
and the moon
and the creatures of the earth
and in all fellow beings
and the vastness beyond
and the vastness within
the best book
the only true book
(every other book is distortion)
is the world itself
the Book of Nature:
read it
poem by Raj Arumugam
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There was reference made to a book written in Greek by a former Rabbi who had been converted to Christianity. There was reference to a publication of a high clergyman of Milan. Not even did Jews raise objections to that book.
quote by Julius Streicher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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