Your Favorite Poem or Saying (page 3)

Mysterious

Imagine
(by John Lennon)

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
Nowhere below us
Above 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
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

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 someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

freedomloverr

this is an excerpt that has been in my head for weeks now.....

"we think like gods. we live like mammals."

- Narkissos

diamondblue1974

RS THOMAS - REFLECTIONS

TAKEN FROM 'NO TRUCE WITH THE FURIES'.

The furies are at home in the mirror; it is their address.

Even the clearest water, if deep enough can drown.

Never think to surprise them.

Your face approaching ever so friendly is the white flag they choose to ignore.

There is no truce with the furies.

A mirrors temperature is always at zero. It is ice in the veins.

Its camera is an x-ray.

It is a chalice held out to you in silent communion where you gaspingly partake of a shifting identity never your own.

dedpoet

My Favourite poet is T S Eliot, and my favourite poem is The Hollow Men.

Nowman

Back in 1990, I won a poetry contest supported by the Library of Congress, my JW parents were so shocked and then they realized that I may pursue this kind of career and started watching closely how much I wrote, they were not excited for me (My mom did apologize for this though when we reunited again in 2000, I thought that was pretty cool that she remembered)....Here goes, keep in mind I was only 16 years, a real deep thinker at that time!

"The Expression"

Allay the harshness in the expression

A jovial pratice is what is favorable

Yet, the practice is distorted and twisted

What a shame a voice says

But, everyone is bound by their own injury

We yell, we yell, and we yell

But, not even one exclusive person hears us!

Shall we disunite and go our distant ways?

No, treasure your life and your race before you

Grope for endurance, reach for vitality

and you will have the right expression

Published in "Of Diamonds and Rust"
Volume 5, 1990

*****Nikki*****

parakeet

The centipede was happy, quite,
Until a frog in fun
Said, "Pray which leg goes after which?"
This worked his mind to such a pitch
He lay distracted in a ditch
Considering how to run.

Peppermint

Ballad of the Breadman

Mary stood in the kitchen
Baking a loaf of bread.
An angel flew in the window
‘We’ve a job for you,’ he said. ‘God in his big gold heaven
Sitting in his big blue chair,
Wanted a mother for his little son.
Suddenly saw you there.’ Mary shook and trembled,
‘It isn’t true what you say.’
‘Don’t say that,’ said the angel.
‘The baby’s on its way.’ Joseph was in the workshop
Planing a piece of wood.
‘The old man’s past it,’ the neighbours said.
‘That girls been up to no good.’ ‘And who was that elegant fellow,’
They said. ‘in the shiny gear?’
The things they said about Gabriel
Were hardly fit to hear. Mary never answered,
Mary never replied.
She kept the information,
Like the baby, safe inside. It was the election winter.
They went to vote in the town.
When Mary found her time had come
The hotels let her down. The baby was born in an annexe
Next to the local pub.
At midnight, a delegation
Turned up from the Farmers’ club. They talked about an explosion
That made a hole on the sky,
Said they’d been sent to the Lamb and Flag
To see God come down from on high. A few days later a bishop
And a five-star general were seen
With the head of an African country
In a bullet-proof limousine. ‘We’ve come,’ they said ‘with tokens
For the little boy to choose.’
Told the tale about war and peace
In the television news. After them cam the soldiers
With rifle and bombs and gun,
Looking for enemies of the state.
The family had packed up and gone. When they got back to the village
The neighbours said, to a man,
‘That boy will never be one of us,
Though he does what he blessed well can.’ He went round to all the people
A paper crown on his head.
Here is some bread from my father.
Take, eat, he said. Nobody seemed very hungry.
Nobody seemed to care.
Nobody saw the god in himself
Quietly standing there. He finished up in the papers.
He came to a very bad end.
He was charged with bringing the living to life.
No man was that prisoner’s friend. There’s only one kind of punishment
To fit that kind of crime.
They rigged a trial and shot him dead.
They were only just in time. They lifted the young man by the leg,
Thy lifted him by the arm,
They locked him in a cathedral
In case he came to harm. They stored him safe as water
Under seven rocks.
One Sunday morning he burst out
Like a jack-in-the-box. Through the town he went walking.
He showed them the holes in his head.
Now do you want any loaves? He cried.
‘Not today’ they said. Charles Causley

daystar

Sparkie

Here ya go darlin':

By Ivan Leonard Wright Date: 8 April 2001

The Want Of You

The want of you is like no other thing;
It smites my soul with sudden sickening;
It binds my being with a wreath of rue-
This want of you.

It flashes on me with the waking sun;
It creeps upon me when the day's done;
It hammers at my heart the long night through-
This want of you.

It sighs within me with the misting skies;
Oh, all the day within my heart it cries,
Old as your absence, yet each moment new-
This want of you.

Mad with demand and aching with despair,
It leaps within my heart and you are-where?
God has forgotten, or he never knew-
This want of you.

daystar

To Thine Own Self Be True

Yet here, Laertes! Aboard, aboard for shame! The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, And you are stay'd for. There ... my blessing with thee! And these few precepts in thy memory Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg’d comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel but, being in, Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgement. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; For the apparel oft proclaims the man; And they in France of the best rank and station Are of a most select and generous chief in that. Neither a borrower, nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. Farewell; my blessing season this in thee! -- William Shakespeare

greendawn

I heard today at the local supermarket someone say something interesting to a manager that was telling him off: "we are born learners and we die learners", so don't be too critical but give everyone enough time to learn things.

Your Favorite Poem or Saying

The Want Of You

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