English Poetry |
English Poetry |
pinky |
Sep 6 2007, 10:39 PM
Post
#676
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Dedicated Member Group: Members Posts: 4221 Joined: 28-January 06 Member No.: 4518 |
The Rose By Kayla D. Howard Beauty in many ways, Kindly many days. A representation of love, That is sent from above. Shimmering red rays, Sparkling raindrops laze, Showering feelings of love, Broken off with a gentle shove. Alone on the ground, In the dirt and drowned. Will its beauty ever shine? Will there be more smiles of mine? Its return is bound, Again love is found. Ever-growing like a vine Attracting glow in its time. "The best and the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, nor touched...but are felt in the heart." Far, very far, into the world of the farthest beyond My hope carries me and places me On the sweetest lap of the unknown. There i behold my self-form In the Dance-Delight of the Absolute Every Night and every Morn Some to Misery are born Every morn and every Night Some are born to sweet Delight Some are born to Endless night |
simplefable |
Sep 7 2007, 12:47 AM
Post
#677
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Dedicated Member Group: Members Posts: 8613 Joined: 3-August 07 From: ANDHRA PRADESH Member No.: 20340 |
IF by Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!' If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son! After silence that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.
Aldous Huxley "Waqt ne kiya...Kya haseen sitm...Tum rahe na tum..Hum rahe na hum.." geetadutt noorjehan shamshadbegum Anmol Fankaar |
mmuk2004 |
Sep 7 2007, 10:07 PM
Post
#678
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Dedicated Member Group: Members Posts: 3415 Joined: 25-September 04 Member No.: 907 |
Ode To Broken Things
Pablo Neruda Things get broken at home like they were pushed by an invisible, deliberate smasher. It's not my hands or yours It wasn't the girls with their hard fingernails or the motion of the planet. It wasn't anything or anybody It wasn't the wind It wasn't the orange-colored noontime Or night over the earth It wasn't even the nose or the elbow Or the hips getting bigger or the ankle or the air. The plate broke, the lamp fell All the flower pots tumbled over one by one. That pot which overflowed with scarlet in the middle of October, it got tired from all the violets and another empty one rolled round and round and round all through winter until it was only the powder of a flowerpot, a broken memory, shining dust. And that clock whose sound was the voice of our lives, the secret thread of our weeks, which released one by one, so many hours for honey and silence for so many births and jobs, that clock also fell and its delicate blue guts vibrated among the broken glass its wide heart unsprung. Life goes on grinding up glass, wearing out clothes making fragments breaking down forms and what lasts through time is like an island on a ship in the sea, perishable surrounded by dangerous fragility by merciless waters and threats. Let's put all our treasures together -- the clocks, plates, cups cracked by the cold -- into a sack and carry them to the sea and let our possessions sink into one alarming breaker that sounds like a river. May whatever breaks be reconstructed by the sea with the long labor of its tides. So many useless things which nobody broke but which got broken anyway. Translated by Jodey Bateman "This isn't right, this isn't even wrong." Wolfgang Pauli (1900-1958) "There are no facts, only interpretations." Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900) |
pinky |
Sep 8 2007, 07:58 PM
Post
#679
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Dedicated Member Group: Members Posts: 4221 Joined: 28-January 06 Member No.: 4518 |
Life Paints A Picture
Everyone's life is a picture, Painted by only one person, Life itself. The picture shows everything you're doing, And everything you have done. But sometimes, Life gets tired. And doesn't want to paint a picture. So, Life sends problems to stop you, If you give up, your picture is finished. If you keep going, so does your picture. So the question is: How soon do you want to see your picture? Do you want to see it now? When it could be so much more? Or later, when there's so much more than before? It's your choice, I'll keep going. © By Robin Baugus "The best and the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, nor touched...but are felt in the heart." Far, very far, into the world of the farthest beyond My hope carries me and places me On the sweetest lap of the unknown. There i behold my self-form In the Dance-Delight of the Absolute Every Night and every Morn Some to Misery are born Every morn and every Night Some are born to sweet Delight Some are born to Endless night |
pinky |
Sep 23 2007, 10:07 PM
Post
#680
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Dedicated Member Group: Members Posts: 4221 Joined: 28-January 06 Member No.: 4518 |
Day after day alone on the hill,
The man with the foolish grin is keeping perfectly still, But nobody wants to know him, They can see that he's just a fool, And he never gives an answer, But the fool on the hill Sees the sun going down, And the eyes in his head, See the world spinning around. Well on his way his head in a cloud, The man of a thousand voices talking perfectly loud But nobody ever hears him, Or the sound he appears to make, And he never seems to notice, But the fool on the hill Sees the sun going down, And the eyes in his head, See the world spinning around. And nobody seems to like him They can tell what he wants to do. And he never shows his feelings, But the fool on the hill Sees the sun going down, And the eyes in his head, See the world spinning around. Sir Issac Lime Imagine Imagine there's no heaven, It's easy if you try, No hell below us, Above us only sky, Imagine all the people living for today... Imagine there's no countries, It isn't hard to do, Nothing to kill or die for, No religion too, Imagine all the people living life in peace... Imagine no possessions, I wonder if you can, No need for greed or hunger, A brotherhood of man, Imagine all the people Sharing all the world... You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one, I hope some day you'll join us, And the world will live as one. "The best and the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, nor touched...but are felt in the heart." Far, very far, into the world of the farthest beyond My hope carries me and places me On the sweetest lap of the unknown. There i behold my self-form In the Dance-Delight of the Absolute Every Night and every Morn Some to Misery are born Every morn and every Night Some are born to sweet Delight Some are born to Endless night |
pinky |
Oct 16 2007, 10:43 AM
Post
#681
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Dedicated Member Group: Members Posts: 4221 Joined: 28-January 06 Member No.: 4518 |
God's Blessings
God loves me. How do I know? He gives flowers in spring, And the sun's golden glow. He gives me hills clad in green, glossy coats. He gives sweet, gentle music In the bird's liquid notes. He gives me trees, both rugged and tall, Laden with fruit, both summer and fall. He gives me my garden, both fragrant and fair, And snow white lilies that bloom by the wall. In winter he gives me pure, white snow, And bright candles burning While the yule logs glow. He gives me both family and friends To cherish and love, while peace wraps my heart Like the wings of a dove. Eva Darrington Rule Last Wishes Of A Seafaring Man Scatter my ashes on the sea And as I float on crested wave I want no tears or grief for me Or duty visits to my grave..... Don't bury me beneath the ground No cold imprisoned tomb for me Or headstone with an Earthy mound That's not the place I'd want to be. It's where the winds blow fresh and free I know that I will lie content The sea I love my cemetery The waves my only monument.. Dulcie Levene "The best and the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, nor touched...but are felt in the heart." Far, very far, into the world of the farthest beyond My hope carries me and places me On the sweetest lap of the unknown. There i behold my self-form In the Dance-Delight of the Absolute Every Night and every Morn Some to Misery are born Every morn and every Night Some are born to sweet Delight Some are born to Endless night |
mmuk2004 |
Oct 16 2007, 05:16 PM
Post
#682
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Dedicated Member Group: Members Posts: 3415 Joined: 25-September 04 Member No.: 907 |
Red Roses
Anne Sexton Tommy is three and when he's bad his mother dances with him. She puts on the record, "Red Roses for a Blue Lady" and throws him across the room. Mind you, she never laid a hand on him, only the wall laid a hand on him. He gets red roses in different places, the head, that time he was as sleepy as a river, the back, that time he was a broken scarecrow, the arm like a diamond had bitten it, the leg, twisted like licorice stick, all the dance they did together, Blue Lady and Tommy. You fell, she said, just remember you fell. I fell, is all he told the doctors in the big hospital. A nice lady came and asked him questions but because he didn't want to be sent away he said, I fell. He never said anything else although he could talk fine. He never told about the music or how she'd sing and shout holding him up and throwing him. He pretends he is her ball. He tries to fold up and bounce but he squashes like fruit. For he loves Blue Lady and the spots of red red roses he gives her. "This isn't right, this isn't even wrong." Wolfgang Pauli (1900-1958) "There are no facts, only interpretations." Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900) |
noorie |
Oct 16 2007, 06:57 PM
Post
#683
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Dedicated Member Group: Away Posts: 3219 Joined: 21-June 06 Member No.: 6518 |
Red Roses Anne Sexton Tommy is three and when he's bad his mother dances with him. She puts on the record, "Red Roses for a Blue Lady" and throws him across the room. Mind you, she never laid a hand on him, only the wall laid a hand on him. He gets red roses in different places, the head, that time he was as sleepy as a river, the back, that time he was a broken scarecrow, the arm like a diamond had bitten it, the leg, twisted like licorice stick, all the dance they did together, Blue Lady and Tommy. You fell, she said, just remember you fell. I fell, is all he told the doctors in the big hospital. A nice lady came and asked him questions but because he didn't want to be sent away he said, I fell. He never said anything else although he could talk fine. He never told about the music or how she'd sing and shout holding him up and throwing him. He pretends he is her ball. He tries to fold up and bounce but he squashes like fruit. For he loves Blue Lady and the spots of red red roses he gives her. "During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act" "You have enemies? Good! It means that you stood up for something, sometime in your life." |
pinky |
Oct 16 2007, 08:48 PM
Post
#684
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Dedicated Member Group: Members Posts: 4221 Joined: 28-January 06 Member No.: 4518 |
Red Roses Anne Sexton Tommy is three and when he's bad his mother dances with him. She puts on the record, "Red Roses for a Blue Lady" and throws him across the room. Mind you, she never laid a hand on him, only the wall laid a hand on him. He gets red roses in different places, the head, that time he was as sleepy as a river, the back, that time he was a broken scarecrow, the arm like a diamond had bitten it, the leg, twisted like licorice stick, all the dance they did together, Blue Lady and Tommy. You fell, she said, just remember you fell. I fell, is all he told the doctors in the big hospital. A nice lady came and asked him questions but because he didn't want to be sent away he said, I fell. He never said anything else although he could talk fine. He never told about the music or how she'd sing and shout holding him up and throwing him. He pretends he is her ball. He tries to fold up and bounce but he squashes like fruit. For he loves Blue Lady and the spots of red red roses he gives her. SO sad "The best and the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, nor touched...but are felt in the heart." Far, very far, into the world of the farthest beyond My hope carries me and places me On the sweetest lap of the unknown. There i behold my self-form In the Dance-Delight of the Absolute Every Night and every Morn Some to Misery are born Every morn and every Night Some are born to sweet Delight Some are born to Endless night |
mmuk2004 |
Oct 16 2007, 09:37 PM
Post
#685
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Dedicated Member Group: Members Posts: 3415 Joined: 25-September 04 Member No.: 907 |
I know, this poem distresses me greatly and unfortunately it refers to a reality which is not just literally true but is also a situation on the increase because of the increasing isolation of families and lifestyles in our society. One can do something by becoming conscious of its existence and trying to intervene in whatever way one can. In some corner of my consciousness I always remember this poem when I come across red roses even while I love them.
Here are some lines from the beautiful Book of Questions by Pablo Neruda, written at the tail end of his career when he was struggling with his illness and published posthumously: Where did the full moon leave its sack of flour tonight? Why do trees conceal the splendor of their roots? Is there anything in the world sadder than a train standing in the rain? Does smoke talk with the clouds? Why do leaves commit suicide when they feel yellow? Why do clouds cry so much, growing happier and happier? How many questions does a cat have? Do tears not yet spilled wait in small lakes? Or are they invisible rivers that run toward sadness? Do you know what the earth meditates upon in autumn? Who sings in the deepest water in the abandoned lagoon? Isn't it better never than late? How many weeks are in a day and how many years in a month? Why do all silkworms live so raggedly? Who wakes up the sun when it falls asleep on its burning bed? Was it where they lost me that I finally found myself? What did the tree learn from the earth to be able to talk with the sky? Does he who is always waiting suffer more than he who's never waited for anyone? Perhaps heaven will be, for suicides, an invisible star? Where is the child I was, still inside me or gone? Why did we spend so much time growing up only to separate? And what is the name of the month that falls between December and January? Did spring never deceive you with kisses that didn't blossom? Why did I return to the indifference of the limitless ocean? How in salt's desert is it possible to blossom? Do we learn kindness or the mask of kindness? Is there a star more wide open than the word "poppy"? In which window did I remain watching buried time? If all rivers are sweet where does the sea get its salt? And how do the roots know they must climb toward the light? Is it true that autumn seems to wait for something to happen? (chosen byMichael Diezmos:blogger) "This isn't right, this isn't even wrong." Wolfgang Pauli (1900-1958) "There are no facts, only interpretations." Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900) |
noorie |
Oct 17 2007, 02:36 AM
Post
#686
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Dedicated Member Group: Away Posts: 3219 Joined: 21-June 06 Member No.: 6518 |
Here are some lines from the beautiful Book of Questions by Pablo Neruda, written at the tail end of his career when he was struggling with his illness and published posthumously: Does he who is always waiting suffer more than he who's never waited for anyone? I wish I knew the answer to that. "During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act" "You have enemies? Good! It means that you stood up for something, sometime in your life." |
noorie |
Oct 22 2007, 09:45 AM
Post
#687
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Dedicated Member Group: Away Posts: 3219 Joined: 21-June 06 Member No.: 6518 |
Life Paints A Picture Everyone's life is a picture, Painted by only one person, Life itself. The picture shows everything you're doing, And everything you have done. But sometimes, Life gets tired. And doesn't want to paint a picture. So, Life sends problems to stop you, If you give up, your picture is finished. If you keep going, so does your picture. So the question is: How soon do you want to see your picture? Do you want to see it now? When it could be so much more? Or later, when there's so much more than before? It's your choice, I'll keep going. © By Robin Baugus Guesthouse -Rumi This being human is a guest house Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they are a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond. "During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act" "You have enemies? Good! It means that you stood up for something, sometime in your life." |
pinky |
Oct 29 2007, 07:07 PM
Post
#688
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Dedicated Member Group: Members Posts: 4221 Joined: 28-January 06 Member No.: 4518 |
Life Paints A Picture Everyone's life is a picture, Painted by only one person, Life itself. The picture shows everything you're doing, And everything you have done. But sometimes, Life gets tired. And doesn't want to paint a picture. So, Life sends problems to stop you, If you give up, your picture is finished. If you keep going, so does your picture. So the question is: How soon do you want to see your picture? Do you want to see it now? When it could be so much more? Or later, when there's so much more than before? It's your choice, I'll keep going. © By Robin Baugus Guesthouse -Rumi This being human is a guest house Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they are a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond. Nice one noorie "The best and the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, nor touched...but are felt in the heart." Far, very far, into the world of the farthest beyond My hope carries me and places me On the sweetest lap of the unknown. There i behold my self-form In the Dance-Delight of the Absolute Every Night and every Morn Some to Misery are born Every morn and every Night Some are born to sweet Delight Some are born to Endless night |
pinky |
Oct 29 2007, 07:14 PM
Post
#689
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Dedicated Member Group: Members Posts: 4221 Joined: 28-January 06 Member No.: 4518 |
A Special World
A special world for you and me A special bond one cannot see It wraps us up in its cocoon And holds us fiercely in its womb. Its fingers spread like fine spun gold Gently nestling us to the fold Like silken thread it holds us fast Bonds like this are meant to last. And though at times a thread may break A new one forms in its wake To bind us closer and keep us strong In a special world, where we belong. - Sheelagh Lennon - A stranger you were once. Then, with a gentle look you took my hand. As our lives engaged, you lit my life and I held both your hands. Now that decades have passed, ours souls have indeed become one. How fortunate we are that we have found the love so true that everyone dreams about. - Laura Veronica Merodio - "The best and the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, nor touched...but are felt in the heart." Far, very far, into the world of the farthest beyond My hope carries me and places me On the sweetest lap of the unknown. There i behold my self-form In the Dance-Delight of the Absolute Every Night and every Morn Some to Misery are born Every morn and every Night Some are born to sweet Delight Some are born to Endless night |
pinky |
Nov 11 2007, 01:59 PM
Post
#690
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Dedicated Member Group: Members Posts: 4221 Joined: 28-January 06 Member No.: 4518 |
A Special World A special world for you and me A special bond one cannot see It wraps us up in its cocoon And holds us fiercely in its womb. Its fingers spread like fine spun gold Gently nestling us to the fold Like silken thread it holds us fast Bonds like this are meant to last. And though at times a thread may break A new one forms in its wake To bind us closer and keep us strong In a special world, where we belong. - Sheelagh Lennon - words r really good and nice ,a special world for u and me....hold's the theam of poem..and in the end of poem....where we belongs...wow..! A stranger you were once. Then, with a gentle look you took my hand. As our lives engaged, you lit my life and I held both your hands. Now that decades have passed, ours souls have indeed become one. How fortunate we are that we have found the love so true that everyone dreams about. - Laura Veronica Merodio - Who Would Know by Melissa Hensle Who would know these kids were drunk driving in our town? I was coming out of the parking lot, they hit me, I spun around. All of a sudden my short life flashed before my hurting eyes. I started thinking about all the fun I had with mom, dad, and the guys. Then I hear the siren guy say there is no chance - She will die, I also felt my spirit go up into the sky. Why does my family have to suffer, for something they didn't do? I just pulled out of a parking lot and now my life is through. I am only 19 years old now, my family's life is going to shatter, and the civil case will not matter. The expense of my funeral will bring them down, me lying in a casket, my family and friends all on the ground. Just because those kids thought they were cool, drinking and driving in my town. "The best and the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen, nor touched...but are felt in the heart." Far, very far, into the world of the farthest beyond My hope carries me and places me On the sweetest lap of the unknown. There i behold my self-form In the Dance-Delight of the Absolute Every Night and every Morn Some to Misery are born Every morn and every Night Some are born to sweet Delight Some are born to Endless night |
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