 |
| Open Theism Discussion Board > Public Forums > General Chat > Poetry Anyone? | Forum Quick Jump
|
| 
Matthew Timothy Short
Huh?
Date Joined Apr 2002
Total Posts : 635
| Posted 2/27/2003 11:57 PM (GMT -6) |   | Comes a time,
The heart cries
Then the day,
The flesh dies
Spirit of God,
All I crave
Will of mine,
But a grave
A grave mistake,
Walk my way
A brave awakening,
What I pray
Dear God, O’ dad,
Talk to me
Your voice it will
Set me free
And I am listening…
Wrote this a few days ago, listening to might-be-don | | Back to Top | | |
 |
Springs
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 636
| Posted 3/1/2003 7:51 PM (GMT -6) | | Sonnet : CXII by Shakespeare
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved
Thy love did read by rote and could not spell. - Friar Laurence. - Shakespeare | | Back to Top | | |
|
Tom
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 10353
| Posted 3/2/2003 2:19 AM (GMT -6) | | "It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken."
And what, pray tell, does that mean? 
Tom
Love never ends | | Back to Top | | |
|
Electra
Registered Member
Date Joined Feb 2002
Total Posts : 611
| Posted 3/2/2003 4:33 AM (GMT -6) | | quote:
"It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken."
And what, pray tell, does that mean?
It’s a reference to the north star, which ships (“wandering barks”) relied on to navigate. Electra
Love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing. ~ Dostoevsky | | Back to Top | | |
|
Tom
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 10353
| Posted 3/2/2003 4:39 AM (GMT -6) | | Tom: "It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken."
And what, pray tell, does that mean?
Electra: It’s a reference to the north star, which ships (“wandering barks”) relied on to navigate. Electra
Tom: Now THAT works! Thank you.
Here's what my daughter (who was recently studying this) and I were told it meant (and I think a certain participant by the name of Springs suggested this!  ): "Wandering barks" are dogs. Dogs look up and see the stars. They see them and recognize their height, but don't appreciate their worth. Although we "love" (small "l"), "Love's" (big "L") worth is as far beyond our understanding as are the galaxies above that of a dog. Thanks for "steering me straight" on that one Springs "Star"!
So, Electra, what does "whose worth is unknown" mean? Seems to me that sailors well appreciated the worth of the North Star.
Tom
Love never ends
Edited by - TGB on 03/02/2003 09:42:33 AM
Edited by - TGB on 03/02/2003 09:45:57 AM | | Back to Top | | |
|
Electra
Registered Member
Date Joined Feb 2002
Total Posts : 611
| Posted 3/2/2003 4:52 AM (GMT -6) | | quote:
So, Electra, what does "whose worth is unknown" mean? Seems to me that sailors well appreciated the worth of the North Star.
They could use the star to navigate because it’s height could “be taken,” but its worth could never “be taken” because it is beyond calculation.
But I don’t know, I’m starting to second guess myself after hearing your canine theory!
Here’s one you can play your guitar:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Black Cat Blues
That ole hounddog’s
got the black cat blues.
That kitty’s always purrin’,
but he’s out howlin’ at the moon.
He tried to move on
but she keeps crossin’ his path.
She leaves him in the doghouse
and she don’t look back.
He used to chase that kitty
up and down the street.
But all he caught was bad luck—
she sho got that ole hounddog beat.
Here’s one I wrote when I had senioritis:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Definition
When you get your literature degree,
you can name your cat, “Beowulf”;
and you can be really annoyed by the split
infinitive at the end of the Star Trek manifesto;
and you can know the definitions
of all kinds of really fancy words
(like “esoteric”).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buried Treasure
Think of all the sand it swallowed and the salt
all in the bitter bath that nursed it
without warmth or sense.
Think of it and yet,
when you pry the shell apart
and peel the dull, gray meat away:
there’s no blood or heat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were a vampire once
Remember when you were a vampire:
when you wandered under the Cheshire moon
and despised its awful grin.
When you wanted to know her name,
to learn the language in her look,
to watch her hazel hair turn gray.
O, to feel age in your own bones,
instead of this dark hunger!
Remember when you
were a vampire.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I got a better idea.
Go on down the street,
past the whore on the corner and the
crackhouse on the crumbling cul du sac,
through the gravel, thistles, and trash,
to the tracks on the edge of town. Follow them
until you find a freight car and ride it
as far as it will take you. If you head west,
you might make it to the mountains,
or find summertime in the south,
or even the sea. It will be a while
before the pimps and the police
catch up with you—maybe even never.
As for the bridge, the pills, the razor blade,
or whatever else you got planned—
that’s just what they’d expect.
If you can survive on the streets
you can make it to the sea. You can
feel the sand, find a shell, watch the waves
where the dolphins play. You can
leave tonight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
between the pages
Mat. 10:29, Luke 12:27, Gen. 3:19
if i were to leave a book behind
it would be small
and simple
and i would press the petals of a lily
and clip the feather of a tiny sparrow
and sprinkle a bit of dust
between the pages
if i were to leave a book behind
i’m sure it’d be small
and simple
The End,
Electra
Love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing. ~ Dostoevsky
Edited by - Electra on 03/02/2003 10:00:26 AM | | Back to Top | | |
|
Semeia
Registered Member
Date Joined Aug 2001
Total Posts : 522
| Posted 3/2/2003 5:04 AM (GMT -6) | | It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Tom, I've always read this as a play on words, with "wandering bark" making the analogy between a "sailing vessel" in the middle of the ocean and a man (possibly the play on dog's bark being intact; it would not be the first time a man was compared to a dog) being steered by love. Love is the guiding force to the man as the North Star is the guiding force to the ship. Love is the "compass pull", or navigational force for the man. Time may "chop down" youth and beauty, but it has no effect on the compass pull, or force, of love.
The "whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken" refers then to BOTH the ship AND what it is being compared to: the man being guided by love. In other words, you may have "sized a man up" by looking at him, but you don't know what he's made of, or sticking with the metaphor, whether or not he is "seaworthy." And the implication is that a man guided by love, no matter how he appears (as a rapscallion "dog"? as a lost ship?), will "bear it out e'en to the edge of doom."
I love this poem.
Thanks,
Semeia
"The opposite of sin is not virtue, but faith."--Soren Kierkegaard | | Back to Top | | |
|
Tom
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 10353
| Posted 3/2/2003 8:54 AM (GMT -6) | | Tim, great stuff! Loved it. Springs, you paint a very nice picture with words. Loved your Haiku! Electra, I loved “between the pages” most!
Semeia, As always, eloquent and eye-openning! Shakespeare, well, you were alright.
Tom
Here’s one my mom-in-law quoted from memory to my wife all her life, and which my mom-in-law and my wife both used to put our kids to sleep, and which my eldest daughter is planning on using with her kids!
The Fairies
by Rose Fyleman
There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!
It’s not so very, very far away;
You pass the gardener’s shed and you just keep straight ahead—
I do so hope they’ve really come to stay.
There’s a little wood, with moss in it and beetles,
And a little stream that quietly runs through;
You wouldn’t think they’d dare to come merrymaking there—
Well, they do.
There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!
They often have a dance on summer nights;
The butterflies and bees make a lovely little breeze,
And the rabbits stand about and hold the lights.
Did you know that they could sit upon the moonbeams
And pick a little star to make a fan,
And dance away up there in the middle of the air?
Well, they can.
There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!
You cannot think how beautiful they are;
They all stand up and sing when the Fairy Queen and King
Come gently floating down upon their car.
The King is very proud and very handsome;
The Queen—now can you guess who that could be?
She’s a little girl all day, but at night she steals away.
Well—it’s me!
Love never ends | | Back to Top | | |
|
Springs
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 636
| Posted 3/2/2003 6:13 PM (GMT -6) | | I love that fairy poem! When I was young I pretended fairies were real. I also called the seeds of dandelions fairies. Last year I found a mother's day card about fairies with dandelion seeds in it and when I gave it to mother, she cried. awwww ain't that sweet!
I think this one is by Francis Bacon:
Truth never dies. The ages come and go.
The mountains wear away, the stars retire,
Destruction lays earth's mighty cities low;
and empires, states and dynasties expire;
But caught and handed onward by the wise,
Truth never dies.
Though unreceived and scoffed at through the years;
Though made the butt of riducule and jest;
Though held alot for mockery and jeers,
Denied by those of transient power possessed,
Insultated by the insolence of lies,
Truth never dies.
It answers not. It does not take offense,
But with a might silence bides its time;
As some great cliff that braves the elements
And lifts through all the storms its head sublime,
It ever stands, uplifted by the wise;
And it never dies.
As rests the Sphinx amid Egyptian sands;
As looms on high the snowy peak and crest;
As firm and patient as Gibraltar stands,
So truth, unwearied, waits the era blessed
When men shall turn to it with great surprise.
Truth never dies.
Thy love did read by rote and could not spell. - Friar Laurence. - Shakespeare
Edited by - Springs on 03/03/2003 12:05:37 AM | | Back to Top | | |
|
Springs
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 636
| Posted 3/5/2003 6:21 PM (GMT -6) | | This is a poet well known to me.
Grace
Love is Grace
A cool summer day under a dark tree
holding someone near emotions run free
the nervous feeling with contact of eyes
and always wiping tears whenever she crys
Soft, silent, sensual, it's all of these
Caring, kind, comfort, more I say please
Patient and full of power in one place
Tears stream down when I see your face
Intrusion
The smell of fear surrounded me tonight.
With a thick musty stench it invaded my privacy.
It's hand's took hold of my limbs and shook them,
I was shaking.
He blew straight down my back and sent tingles down my spine.
Fear had silenced everything around me, and I could hear him.
Now inside my head, he makes me think
I am afraid.
Both of these poems are by my son Chris.
Thy love did read by rote and could not spell. - Friar Laurence. - Shakespeare
Edited by - Springs on 03/05/2003 11:23:29 PM | | Back to Top | | |
|
fyodor
Registered Member
Date Joined Dec 2002
Total Posts : 179
| Posted 3/5/2003 6:49 PM (GMT -6) | | From Canto IV of Inferno of The Divine Comedy, by Dante Alighieri
Circle One: Limbo The Virtuous Pagans
1 BROKE the deep slumber in my brain a crash
2 Of heavy thunder, that I shook myself,
3 As one by main force rous'd. Risen upright,
4 My rested eyes I mov'd around, and search'd
5 With fixed ken to know what place it was,
6 Wherein I stood. For certain on the brink
7 I found me of the lamentable vale,
8 The dread abyss, that joins a thund'rous sound
9 Of plaints innumerable. Dark and deep,
10 And thick with clouds o'erspread, mine eye in vain
11 Explor'd its bottom, nor could aught discern.
12 Now let us to the blind world there beneath
13 Descend; the bard began all pale of look:
14 I go the first, and thou shalt follow next.
15 Then I his alter'd hue perceiving, thus:
16 How may I speed, if thou yieldest to dread,
17 Who still art wont to comfort me in doubt?
18 He then: The anguish of that race below
19 With pity stains my cheek, which thou for fear
20 Mistakest. Let us on. Our length of way
21 Urges to haste. Onward, this said, he mov'd;
22 And ent'ring led me with him on the bounds
23 Of the first circle, that surrounds th' abyss.
24 Here, as mine ear could note, no plaint was heard
25 Except of sighs, that made th' eternal air
26 Tremble, not caus'd by tortures, but from grief
27 Felt by those multitudes, many and vast,
28 Of men, women, and infants. Then to me
29 The gentle guide: Inquir'st thou not what spirits
30 Are these, which thou beholdest? Ere thou pass
31 Farther, I would thou know, that these of sin
32 Were blameless; and if aught they merited,
33 It profits not, since baptism was not theirs,
34 The portal to thy faith. If they before
35 The Gospel liv'd, they serv'd not God aright;
36 And among such am I. For these defects,
37 And for no other evil, we are lost;
38 Only so far afflicted, that we live
39 Desiring without hope. So grief assail'd
40 My heart at hearing this, for well I knew
41 Suspended in that Limbo many a soul
42 Of mighty worth. O tell me, sire rever'd!
43 Tell me, my master! I began through wish
44 Of full assurance in that holy faith,
45 Which vanquishes all error; say, did e'er
46 Any, or through his own or other's merit,
47 Come forth from thence, whom afterward was blest?
48 Piercing the secret purport of my speech,
49 He answer'd: I was new to that estate,
50 When I beheld a puissant one arrive
51 Amongst us, with victorious trophy crown'd.
52 He forth the shade of our first parent drew,
53 Abel his child, and Noah righteous man,
54 Of Moses lawgiver for faith approv'd,
55 Of patriarch Abraham, and David king,
56 Israel with his sire and with his sons,
57 Nor without Rachel whom so hard he won,
58 And others many more, whom he to bliss
59 Exalted. Before these, be thou assur'd,
60 No spirit of human kind was ever sav'd
The Graduates from Hell
†††"To have a self, to be a self, is the greatest concession, an infinite concession, given to man, but it is also eternity's claim upon him." – S. Kierkegaard | | Back to Top | | |
|
Springs
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 636
| Posted 3/6/2003 1:43 PM (GMT -6) | | Nice contribution Fyodor.
here's mine
Main Entry: puis·sant
Pronunciation: -s&nt, -s&nt
Function: adjective
Date: 15th century
: having puissance : POWERFUL
Springs
Thy love did read by rote and could not spell. - Friar Laurence. - Shakespeare | | Back to Top | | |
|
Springs
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 636
| Posted 3/8/2003 6:29 PM (GMT -6) | | A Psalm of Life
By: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream! –
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not is goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way,
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury it’s dead!
Act – act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
Thy love did read by rote and could not spell. - Friar Laurence. - Shakespeare
Edited by - Springs on 03/08/2003 11:29:50 PM | | Back to Top | | |
|
Electra
Registered Member
Date Joined Feb 2002
Total Posts : 611
| Posted 3/19/2003 7:24 PM (GMT -6) | | I write your name
On my school desk, on treetops
On all pages, anyone ever read
On jungles, on deserts
On eagles’ nests, on echoes of my childhood
On the margins of night, on the day’s bread
On seasons that love one another, on my faded blue rags
On the musty pool of the sun, on the living lake of the moon
On fields across the horizon, on wings of birds
On the sea, on ships, on every puff of dawn
On footpaths that wake up, on highways that branch out
On public squares that are flowing over
On that fruit cut in half, on my bedroom mirror
On the empty shell of my bed, on the springboard of my door
On every common object, on the top flame of the fire
On each body I love, on every outstretched hand
On absence without loving, on loneliness behind bars
On health won back, on danger passed
On baseless hope
I write your name
And by the weight of one word
I start my love all over again
I was born to know you
and call you by your name
Peace…
by Paul Elouard
(trans. from the French)
Love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing. ~ Dostoevsky | | Back to Top | | |
|
Terry_Baxter
Registered Member
Date Joined Jan 2002
Total Posts : 187
| Posted 3/25/2003 4:58 AM (GMT -6) | | "While the Nations Rage" Words and Music by Rich Mullins
Why do the nations rage?
Why do they plot and scheme?
Their bullets can't stop the prayers we pray
In the name of the Prince of Peace
We walk in faith and remember long ago
How they killed Him and then how on the third day He arose
Well, things may look bad
And things may look grim
But all these things must pass except the things that are of Him
Where are the nails that pierced His hands?
Well the nails have turned to rust
But behold the Man
He is risen
And He reigns
In the hearts of the children
Rising up in His name
Where are the thorns that drew His blood?
Well, the thorns have turned to dust
But not so the love
He has given
No, it remains
In the hearts of the children
Who will love while the nations rage
The Lord in Heaven laughs
He knows what is to come
While all the chiefs of state plan their big attacks
Against His anointed One
The Church of God she will not bend her knees
To the gods of this world though they promise her peace
She stands her ground
Stands firm on the Rock
Watch their walls tumble down when she lives out His love
Where are the nails that pierced His hands?
Well the nails have turned to rust
But not so the Man
He is risen
And He reigns
In the hearts of the children
Rising up in His name
Where are the thorns that drew His blood?
Well, the thorns have turned to dust
But behold the love
He has given
It remains
In the hearts of the children
Who will love while the nations rage
While the nations rage
| | Back to Top | | |
|
Electra
Registered Member
Date Joined Feb 2002
Total Posts : 611
| Posted 4/3/2003 10:33 AM (GMT -6) | | Regime Change
by Andrew Motion, British Poet Laureate
Advancing down the road from Niniveh
Death paused a while and said 'Now listen here.
You see the names of places roundabout?
They're mine now, and I've turned them inside out.
Take Eden, further south: At dawn today
I ordered up my troops to tear away
Its walls and gates so everyone can see
That gorgeous fruit which dangles from its tree.
You want it, don't you? Go and eat it then,
And lick your lips, and pick the same again.
Take Tigris and Euphrates; once they ran
Through childhood-coloured slats of sand and sun.
Not any more they don't; I've filled them up
With countless different kinds of human crap.
Take Babylon, the palace sprouting flowers
Which sweetened empires in their peaceful hours -
I've found a different way to scent the air:
Already it's a by-word for despair.
Which leaves Baghdad - the star-tipped minarets,
The marble courts and halls, the mirage-heat.
These places, and the ancient things you know,
You won't know soon. I'm working on it now.'
Causa Belli
by Andrew Motion
They read good books, and quote, but never learn
a language other than the scream of rocket-burn
Our straighter talk is drowned but ironclad;
elections, money, empire, oil and Dad.
Love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing. ~ Dostoevsky
Edited by - Electra on 04/03/2003 3:35:11 PM | | Back to Top | | |
|
heloisa
Registered Member
Date Joined Aug 2004
Total Posts : 1
| Posted 8/26/2004 3:15 PM (GMT -6) | | Electra posted the lyrics for "Peace", by Sweet Honey in the Rock, and I completed the missing sentences. This song is amazingly beautiful!!!
Peace to all of you!
Heloisa.
(The song can be downloaded for free from the amazon.com website: www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/B0000573I5/ref=j_disp_dwnld_1/002-0440694-8836066?v=glance&s=music&st=digital-music)
I write your name
On my school desk, on treetops
On all pages, anyone ever read
On jungles, on deserts
On eagles' nests, on echoes of my childhood
On the margins of night, on the day's bread
On seasons that love one another, on my faded blue rags
On the musty pool of the sun, on the living lake of the moon
On fields across the horizon, on wings of birds
On shadows behind the mills, on every puff of dawn
On the sea, on ships, on crazy mountain tops
On footpaths that wake up, on highways that branch out
On public squares that are flowing over
On that fruit cut in half, on my bedroom mirror and my bedroom
On the empty shell of my bed, on my greedy and affectionate dog
On his limp awkward paws, on the springboard of my door
On every common object, on the top flame of the fire
On my friend's foreheads, on each body I love,
On every outstretched hand, on absence without loving,
On loneliness behind bars, on the stairway to heaven
On health won back, on danger passed
On baseless hope
I write your name
And by the weight of one word
I start my love all over again
I was born to know you
and call you by your name
Peace…by Paul Eluard
(trans. from the French) | | Back to Top | | |
|
1Heart
Registered Member
Date Joined Feb 2004
Total Posts : 1128
| Posted 8/27/2004 9:48 PM (GMT -6) | | Here's a few of mine:
"Lord, how lonely You must have been,
When you hung there on that cross
How bitter sweet the thought
How lonely, yet how lovely
Lord how lonely you must have been,
When you hung there, on my cross"
****
"A melody begins softly
Stirring softly
A woman steps in time
To the stirring melody
She hears in her soul
A melody with no rhyme,
But moving
In perfect rhythm,
As she dances ~
She worships"
****
"Sun and shade ~
Majesty in light
A landscape of love
Unfolds before me
Gently swaying ~
Even the trees reach
For You
All creation rejoices in You
My Lord and my King!"
Tonight I am drinking all of this in ~
Savoring this moment
Of completeness,
Of wholeness,
~In Him"
****
"One touch
So obscure
But yet you knew
The touch that was needed
Was Yours
Healing of body and soul
One touch from You
And healing begins!"
***
"Softly
Fades the evening light
And the night
Enfolds me once again
Your love covers me
Softly
Like the covers on my bed
Cover me ~ once more
The only covering I need
Is crimson red
The world offers all else
I choose You ~ instead
I choose a covering
Of crimson red"
****
"How can this be Lord?
This deliciousness
That wraps itself
Around me
That melts on my tongue
That melts my heart
'Til all is just
A pool of sweetness
At Your feet"
****
Ok...I'll knock it off (it's late)...just one more - written to a paper mache moose at a local Java place
"Oh, Moose of my dreams
Where will we go
From here?
How endearing you are
Dear friend
With your winsome ways
And secret smile
Oh, Moose of my dreams
With your garden glove svelte physique
And red, squiggly spots
How long and twisty your legs
Your crimson rack
Crowning your princely head
But, what I adore
The most
Are our long conversations
The sweet connecting
of hearts and souls
Moose of my dreams...
I could lose myself
In just one
Sweet, spontaneous embrace
Oh, Moose of my dreams
Tell me where ~ oh where
Will we go from here?
Oh (sadly), Nowhere
You're "Not for sale"
***(Now I'll never be able to show my face here again!) 
Love this thread,
Jo-Anne
"Sometimes all we can do is go back to the character of God, and drop anchor there."
| | Back to Top | | |
|
scott_jorgenson
Registered Member
Date Joined Dec 2002
Total Posts : 271
| Posted 8/31/2004 7:58 AM (GMT -6) | | I've always liked Percy Shelley's "Ozymandias". I know, classic high-school English-literature fare (in America, at least). But I love the imagery, the setting, the rhyme, and the accessible and profound message. Its a good read when we get too caught-up in the material empires we all build, great and small.
Ozymandias
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Percy Shelley, 1818
| | Back to Top | | |
|
sometimesisquint
Registered Member
Date Joined Jun 2004
Total Posts : 91
| Posted 8/31/2004 11:53 AM (GMT -6) | | Here's a few songs a friend wrote that I find very stirring and sweet:
AGENDA
kindly lower your gun for a moment
because I'm better than you and you know it.
I won't hesitate to pull back the trigger,
because I'm bigger
And while we're at let's punch through some issues
Coz there's a whole lot out there that's been misused
And since it's established we're political in nature
We might as well make sure
You and me...
(CHORUS)
and there's a world of pain that shatters me
oh for a way out
and the running feet are clattering
run, duck and stay down
politicians pattering
give us our day now
and none of it is mattering...now
and is the individual separate from the government?
seems like it be easier if it was, doesn't it?
but I can't help but feel that it all trickles up
creates a fickle mob
kill the bad, kill the good, kill the others
kill them so we won't ever suffer.
Forget the grace, forget the face, forget the memory
Now you have a perfect ending
You and me...
(CHORUS)
Should I use the buzzwords?
The unilateral cusswords?
Should I support the regime change?
Long as the missiles stay out of range?
What is out of range , what does that mean?
Does it mean me, or my family or my democracy?
Does it mean oil prices are where they'll always be?
Or some dirty man has wiped the ethical slate clean?
Does it mean we're correct in everything we do?
Does it mean we'll always be okay if we support the Jews?
Does it mean as long as we survive till eighty
Then the deeds done in darkness are no longer hateful?
Does it mean I'm right, we're right, they're wrong?
Is this song too long coz it goes on and on and on?
Have I made my point? Is my pointing done?
Has the pointing popped your little bubble of Western fun?
(CHORUS)
---
KIDS
I disagree completely
With the way you all portray Him
And how you'll willingly betray Him.
But
Regrettably, I lack the ability
To do it any better.
I’ll set you free if you please me.
But the odds of that are slimming
As the fatted calf is thinning.
‘Coz
I justify all of my
Double-minded fetter.
So I throw back my head and I kick up my heel and I grin like a child on his He-man big wheel
Because the only thing that I know is the only thing that I know.
It’s the only thing that I know.
I do a lot of what I’d rather not.
But I bathe it all in humor
‘Till you forget I live a rumor.
And
I play the role of the humble soul.
Simply doing favors.
While you rant and rave of souls to save
And the altars never empty, and the new holy tapes you lent me
While you defecate on those who wait
For their own elusive Savior.
So we’ll strike down the score, and wave the white rag
And continue our day with a nice game of tag
Because we’ll only make matters worse, if we only make matters worse.
It’ll only make matters worse.
So let me see: You are me
And I’m your alter-ego
And if the ship goes down, then we go.
So
Let’s disagree, indefinitely
And maybe someday we'll know....
Until then we'll just play with ourselves (so to speak)
And get lost this 80-year-long hide-n-seek.
Because we'll never make it this way, if we never learn how to play
And we’ll only make matters worse, if we only make matters worse
Because the only thing that I know is the only thing that I know
"What's partner yoga?"
"It's when you're two with the universe."
-My Friend Keith
---
When life gives you dish rags, you make...a kite that won't fly in the rain. | | Back to Top | | |
|
Tom
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 10353
| Posted 9/1/2004 3:06 AM (GMT -6) | | Jo-Anne: ***(Now I'll never be able to show my face here again!)
Tom: On the contrary! Now you CAN show your face! I liked the crimson cover. Nice picture.
Here's one I'll compose right here right now while posting!
Rose are red
Violets are blue
I visited Doc
And his dog ate my shoe.
Sad, but true.
 | | Back to Top | | |
|
1Heart
Registered Member
Date Joined Feb 2004
Total Posts : 1128
| Posted 9/1/2004 8:35 PM (GMT -6) | | quote:
Originally posted by TGB
Jo-Anne: ***(Now I'll never be able to show my face here again!)
Tom: On the contrary! Now you CAN show your face! I liked the crimson cover. Nice picture.
Here's one I'll compose right here right now while posting!
Rose are red
Violets are blue
I visited Doc
And his dog ate my shoe.
Sad, but true.
 Ah...improv poetry...I like it! Sad about the shoe though  It almost (almost) brought tears to my eyes...
Here's a song our daughter wrote:
Run, river, run
Come, freedom, come
(x2)
We are humbled before you, our gracious Father, teach us to walk in your perfect love
We long for your revelation, we set our hearts on things above
We look for you
We wait on you
(x2)
We desire your holy habitation
Teach us to lay down our lives
We look for your appearing, our creator and friend
We look for you
We wait on you
(x2)
Run, river, run
Come, freedom, come
(x2)
We delight in your commands
For you are the completion of all we are
We honour you
We honour you, Yahweh
We honour you
We honour you
We look for you
We wait on you
(x2)
Run, river, run
Come, freedom, come
(x2)
"Sometimes all we can do is go back to the character of God, and drop anchor there."
| | Back to Top | | |
|
BBBCanada
Registered Member
Date Joined Jun 2001
Total Posts : 2763
| Posted 6/21/2008 8:17 PM (GMT -6) | | | Moving Mountains
Words and Music by Thrice
I speak in many tongues of many men Argue with angels and they always win But I don’t know the first thing about love I prophesize and know all mystery All living things are opened up to me But I don’t know the first thing about love Know the first thing about love I have the keys to open many doors Give all my possessions to the poor But I don’t know the first thing about love I’m moving mountains and have faith in me Have faith enough to caste them to the sea But I don’t know the first thing about love I don’t know the first thing about love All other things shall fade away Love stands alone and still holds sway all other things shall fade away Into the ground into the grave I give my body up into the flames And never once did I deny your name But I don’t know the first thing about love I don’t know the first thing about love
Brandon
It is the purpose that makes strong the vow, but vows to every purpose must not hold.--A friend.
To love without love is slavery--Mother Teresa
| | Back to Top | | |
| 48 posts in this thread.
Viewing Page : 1 2 |
| Forum Information | Currently it is Monday, November 09, 2026 2:48 PM (GMT -6)
There are a total of 97,718 posts in 6,040 threads.
In the last 3 days there were 0 new threads and 0 reply posts. View Active Threads
|
Forum powered by dotNetBB v2.42EC SP3
dotNetBB © 2000-2026 |
|
|