For man, as for flower and beast and bird, the supreme triumph is to be most vividly, most perfectly alive.
quote by David H. Lawrence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
For me, the vast marvel is to be alive. For man, or for flowers or beast or bird, the supreme triumph is to be most vividly and perfectly alive.
Gibberish
Many a flower have I seen blossom,
Many a bird for me will sing.
Never heard I so sweet a singer,
Never saw I so fair a thing.
She is a bird, a bird that blossoms,
She is a flower, a flower that sings;
And I a flower when I behold her,
And when I hear her, I have wings.
poem by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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The Need For Affirmation
how i tried to be just myself in the corner
like a stone
but it is not at all possible
i am not just a stone
i am a worm
how i wish just to wriggle
and live in that
small leaf
but it is not at all possible
i am a butterfly
how i wish just to flutter
from one flower to
another
but it is not at all possible
i am a bird
how i wish to be just a bird,
a cloud, the sun, the moon
or the thousand stars
and then i become
a man
and it is enough
you just called my name
and it is perfectly a good beginning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Singing dancing
Singing dancing flower
Came to me
I welcome flower
And it faded.
Flower is the supreme
And final and pure
Flower know secret of surrender
Does not know addition subtraction.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Flower and Bird
Amongst the lonely branches of a tree,
Stood a lovely flower fragrant and free,
She was the sight of every passer-by,
'What a beautiful flower! ' people would cry.
The flower in the prime of its youth,
Couldn’t identify life and its real truth,
Proud by its fragrance and beauty it stood,
And thought that beauty was what made it good,
Impressed by its beauty a little bird would sing,
The tale of its love and the whole valley would ring,
Perched on the branch of the great oak tree,
The bird sings its love for the flower to see,
People would stop and look at this tale,
Of the beautiful lady and the gallant male.
And one day the bird let its heart out,
And the beautiful flower refused with pout,
The bird wanting its beloved’s heart,
Asked her, 'What do I do so that we don’t part? '
And the proud flower told the lonely bird,
'There is a flower down the valley, have you heard?
Its brilliant red, is said is more beautiful than me,
So dear bird, make me red, as red as I can be! '
The bird said, 'But your beauty is no match,
So beautiful are you that my heart, you did catch! '
The flower in its pride and anger,
Told the bird 'Oh! Don’t bother',
The sadness in its eyes, the bird couldn’t see,
And said, 'I gift the colour red to thee! '
Saying this he pierced his heart on a thorn,
And spilt the blood on her till he was torn,
And the flower indeed did become red,
With the love of the little bird’s blood,
People would stare at the beautiful flower,
And amongst the branches it would hover,
The people passing soon forgot the song of the bird,
But the silent lament of the flower was never heard,
The flower never forgot the love of its bird,
But the melody of the poor bird was never heard!
poem by Supriya Mothay
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Come to my garden
Come to my garden
when purple irises flower perfectly,
morning glories summit over every thing
and be speechless by the glory
of sunspots that trumpet their beauty purple-blue
and violets that rise up everywhere.
Come to my garden
when purple irises flower perfectly,
see roses from crimson to auburn
and find no words and become dumbstruck
by odours and colours that my plants trumpet forth
and come and look at every thing, come my most precious flower,
come to my garden.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I wanted to know the name of every stone and flower and insect and bird and beast. I wanted to know where it got its color, where it got its life - but there was no one to tell me.
quote by George Washington Carver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Primrose Dance
Skirts like the amber petals of a flower,
A primrose dancing for delight
In some enchantment of a bower
That rose to wizard music in the night;
A rhythmic flower whose petals pirouette
In delicate circles, fain to follow
The vague aerial minuet,
The mazy dancing of the swallow;
A flower's caprice, a bird's command
Of all the airy ways that lie
In light along the wonder-land,
The wonder-haunted loneliness of sky:
So, in the smoke-polluted place,
Where bird or flower might never be,
With glimmering feet, with flower-like face,
She dances at the Tivoli.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Defeating...That Beast
You've begun...to defeat,
That beast that's come to be.
You've become...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat,
That beast that's come to be.
You've become...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat it!
Think about the distance you've come,
Defeating...the beast.
Think about your decision not to run,
Away...from the beast.
Think about those knees on the ground,
Weeping for the beast.
Think about the dirt you ate,
Fed...by the beast.
Think about celebrating...
Those days ahead awaiting!
You've begun...to defeat,
That beast that's come to be.
You've become...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat,
That beast that's come to be.
You've become...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat it!
No longer the martyr,
Defeating...that beast.
Get up...and strut about.
You've defeated...that beast.
Let those words come out of your mouth,
'I've defeated...that beast! '
Let the people see and believe it,
You've defeated...that beast.
Whoop...and hollar about,
'I've defeated...and done feeding it!
That beast is outta my house.'
You've begun...to defeat,
That beast that's come to be.
You've become...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat,
That beast that's come to be.
You've become...to defeat it!
You've begun...to defeat it!
More than a piece of cake!
Defeating...that beast.
Gone and eliminated.
Defeating...that beast.
Much more than a piece of cake.
Defeating...that beast.
But gone and eliminated.
Defeating...that beast.
More than a piece of cake.
Defeating...that beast.
Gone and eliminated.
Defeating...that beast.
Much more than a piece of cake.
Defeating...that beast.
But gone and eliminated.
That beatened up beast to beat!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Triumphus
A man, made
In the image
Of God,
Became a
Beast, in the
Form of a man.
The beast
Sired a son,
Not a beast.
The beast
Abandoned
His son.
His son
Has a son,
Not a beast.
poem by Francis Santaquilani
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I'm aware of what kids like because I'm constantly in touch with them. Also, they say that a lot of people who write for children can remember their own childhoods vividly and I can remember my childhood very vividly.
quote by Eric Wilson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In A Vale
When I was young, we dwelt in a vale
By a misty fen that rang all night,
And thus it was the maidens pale
I knew so well, whose garments trail
Across the reeds to a window light.
The fen had every kind of bloom,
And for every kind there was a face,
And a voice that has sounded in my room
Across the sill from the outer gloom.
Each came singly unto her place,
But all came every night with the mist;
And often they brought so much to say
Of things of moment to which, they wist,
One so lonely was fain to list,
That the stars were almost faded away
Before the last went, heavy with dew,
Back to the place from which she came-
Where the bird was before it flew,
Where the flower was before it grew,
Where bird and flower were one and the same.
And thus it is I know so well
Why the flower has odor, the bird has song.
You have only to ask me, and I can tell.
No, not vainly there did I dwell,
Nor vainly listen all the night long.
poem by Robert Frost
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Ravaged Beast In Me
The ravaged beast in me is alive.
It survives on pure instinct.
Have you ever been on the brink.
The kind of thing that you don't have time to think.
Oh oh don't blink.
Your life could flash by before your very eyes.
Evil is just a state mind and that's fine at times.
But you still got to strategies.
Mark the beginning, mark the end.
Lets see who wins.
It's another dirty competition.
The ravaged beast in me is alive.
It survives on pure instinct.
Have you ever been on brink?
Theirs just no time to think.
Don't blink.
A Picasso I paint in blood.
Not afraid to lose everything I love.
Every human must suffer in one way or another.
Mutual indifference, mutual ignorance.
Some times its okay for you not care.
Especially when everyone around you brings nothing but despair.
The ravaged beast in me is alive.
It survives on pure instinct.
Have you ever been on the brink?
There just no time to think.
Don't blink.
Don't even breath.
Don't conceive you have a single weakness.
Strength in the darkness that drives you insane.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Guilt Will Wilt The Sweetest Flower
[Song Lyric]
Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower,
Cause the very sun to glower,
Though the skies their tears may shower.
Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower.
Shame will tame the lion's power,
Make the boldest warrior cower,
Turn the taste of triumph sour.
Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower.
For each mister, miss, or madam,
Son or lover— this is so.
In the Bible Eve and Adam
Did discover long ago...
That guilt will wilt the sweetest flower,
Steal the pleasure from the hour,
Even in the greenest bower—
Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower.
poem by Harley White
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During War’s Manmade Darkness (Cavatina) (In Answer To Dylan Thomas)
During war’s manmade darkness, the havoc
envelops man;
tramples flower, bird and beast in breaking;
where life began
remains nothing than the shattering death;
no good thing can
come from the drive to conquer and possess,
while in evil man does downwards digress.
[Reference: “A Refusal to Mourn the Death, by Fire, of a Child in London” by Dylan Thomas.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Our Metal Beast
Down the road we talk and laugh,
In the metal beast that gives us a ride,
Who knows if it is willing,
And who would really care.
Who ever thought we could ruin,
the life of that which gives it back,
the metal beast are everywhere,
Large ones that seem to carry,
Fifty or more on their tracks.
Or the small ones no more than five or six,
they can carry,
These metal beast,
we never question,
these metal beast that spew out death,
in a smokey and floating form.
Our metal beast,
that we learn to love,
Our metal beast are everywhere,
polished and primed,
or rusty and old,
Our metal beast that we hold onto,
that we love,
Or take for granted.
Our metal beast,
spew out death to our home.
poem by Rebecca Adams
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Fallen Souls
Pray, i don't know if it's sacred, or not
you say, that we can fall apart at anytime
breathe for the whole world...we can't fight
they starve for the love...that we supply
feed from their eyes, dream you're alive, and feel feel
the beast flies tonight, and the world he describes
suffer...suffer
Afraid, i don't know if we're heading for a fall
you jump into the front to say you're apart of it all
feed from their eyes, dream your alive, and feel feel
the beast flies tonight, and the world he describes
suffer...suffer
if we feed from their eyes, dream we're alive to feel
the beast flies tonight, the world he describes
suffer...suffer
these are the fallen souls
song performed by by Ours
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Arrow of Hate
An animal is an arrow of hate for the smart,
This beast belongs to a loquacious friend,
His destructive powers are supreme,
He was a fortress of healing and word.
The animals of healing will convert through trouble,
Scrolling the pages of a computer,
Like a beast of humanity, of course,
Even though home is the human touch.
A torch is a stone of a weird man,
Stupid is the ache we put on,
Healing is a stupid art, of wonderful feeling,
This I know, and I have killed on.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Not Here to Beat the Beast
I am not here to beat the beast.
Nor did I come,
To sneak a sniff of its presence.
Not to cower kneeling in defeat.
To please rumors of a haunting...
Suffered without investigation.
That beast has been feasting,
Long before I arrived.
And I'm sure...
If it knows you are here in fear,
It will not suspect
I have desires to follow in its footsteps!
Wherever it has been claimed to be.
But I am curious,
Why you have allowed it to eat
From your peace that decreases.
While you complain...
Little of your gains are left!
As you struggle over what remains.
Who and why...
Decided for you,
That should be a position to maintain?
I came to ask the beast to leave.
Not to agree or negotiate my presence.
Like that beast...
I too have needs!
And I will not sit in hiding,
To decide which needs of mine...
The beast can take,
Because I sit in indecision!
To inflict my own heartaches.
Oh no!
I am not here to beat or feed any beast!
But I will make an appearance made known.
And tell that beast to leave my ass alone!
I am not going to endure any conflict,
Over that which I know belongs to me!
That beast needs to see,
I am not afraid!
Where is it?
And who has said the beast existed?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mystery beast
Do you know me?
Thats the question you ask.
Well I know you allright.
I am the beast.
That fucks up your day.
What is this mystery beast.
The one that eats my day by day?
Why does this unforseen beast pick on me?
What did I ever do?
Oh mystery beast.
I can not see you.
But I sense your presence.
Please dont pocess my body.
Realease me please.
This mystery beast.
Runs through my vains.
Eating me day by day.
Amy Kerswell
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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