Monthly Archives: March, 2015

Wage-slaves to War-makers

We have no land for which to fight
Except where Russia cracks the night.
This is your land, within your power.
We break the rock; you pluck the flower.
We build the roads on which you speed.
And when we strike for what we need
We learn at once how well you own
The press, the courts and every stone
Of every structure that we rear.
Say, what invaders shall we fear?
Why should we care out on the job
If you or others drive and rob?

We have no land for which to fight
Though all the world is ours by right.
We workers grimed with soot and mud
Have shed enough and more of blood.
Each office-building overhead
Is built on corpses of our dead.
We have no quarrel across the foam
But here within our jail, your home!
We give our pledge we shall not kill,
For ours the braver, kinder will.
But if you force us till we do,
It will be you, it will be you!

~Edward Ralph Cheyney~

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Out in the Fields with God

The little cares which fretted me
I lost them yesterday,
Among the fields, above the sea,
Among the winds at play;
Among the lowing of the herds,
The rustling of the trees,
Among the singing of the birds,
The humming of the bees.
The foolish fear of what may happen,
I cast them all away
Among the clover-scented grass,
Among the new-mown hay;
Among the rustling of the corn,
Where drowsy poppies nod
Where ill thoughts die and good are born –
Out in the fields with God.

~Elizabeth Barrett Browning~

Villanelle Of Challenge

Go count the scars upon your soul and sing,
They are proof that you have met the foe,
A battered crown sits well upon a king.

Since Time makes honey out of sorrow’s sting
And wounds turn purple for the public show,
Go count the scars upon your soul and sing.
While sword or ploughshare on the anvil ring,
Soon, come what may, the fretting world will know
A battered crown sits well upon a king.

And care no more for what the dawn may bring,
Yours is a realm no knave can overthrow,
Go count the scars upon your soul and sing.
Aye, sing the praise for every lonely thing
that breaks its heart on all we say or know;
A battered crown sits well upon a king

Who stands aloof and fills his empty sling
With words and stones to meet fate blow for blow;
Go count the scars upon your soul and sing,
A battered crown sits well upon a king.

~A.M. Sullivan~

The Arrow and the Song

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow~

Friends and Enemies

He who has a thousand friends
Has not a friend to spare,
While he who has one enemy
Shall meet him everywhere.

~Ralph Waldo Emerson~

Yesterday

Seems I missed World Poetry Day on March 21st…

I am Yesterday.
I am gone from you forever.
I am the last of a long procession of days, streaming behind you, away from you, pouring into mist and obscurity, and at last into the ocean of oblivion.
I depart from you, yet am I ever with you.
Once I was called Tomorrow and was virgin pure; then I became your spouse and was named Today; now I am Yesterday and carry upon me the eternal stain of your embrace.
I am one of the leaves of a growing book. There are many pages before me.
Someday you shall turn us all over and read us and know what you are.
I am rich, for I have wisdom.
I bore you a child and left him with you. His name is Experience.
I am Yesterday; yet I am the same as Today and Forever for I AM YOU; and you cannot escape from yourself.

~Frank Crane~

Thanks

Thank you very much indeed,
River, for your waving reed;
Hollyhocks, for budding knobs;
Foxgloves, for your velvet fobs;
Pansies, for your silky cheeks;
Chaffinches, for singing beaks;
Spring, for wood anemones
Near the mossy toes of trees;
Summer, for the fruited pear,
Yellowing crab, and cherry fare;
Autumn, for the bearded load,
Hazelnuts, along the road;
Winter, for the fairy tale,
Splitting log and bouncing hail.

But blest Father, high above,
All these joys are from Thy love;
And your children everywhere,
Born in palace, lane, or square,
Cry with voices all agreed,
“Thank you very much indeed.”

~Norman Gale~

Words of Love

I have loved to the point of madness;
That which is called madness,
that which to me,
Is the sensible way to love.
~Francoise Sagan~

The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden, a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it. You and you alone make me feel that I am alive. Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough. ~George Moore~

I love you,
Not only for what you are,
But for what I am when I am with you.
~Roy Croft ~

A Leafless Tree

I like to see
The patience of a leafless tree
Waiting in quiet dignity,
Till spring shall set its greenness free.

I sometimes think
That living just beneath the sky
Has made it understand and drink
Deeper wisdom than you and I—

It does not prate
Of limitation in its sere
Bare boughs; it does not estimate
The time for fresh leaves to appear;

It seems to know,
Within its great deep-rooted heart,
That never-ending life shall flow
And new springs start.

~Anna Louise Thompson~

The Way Of The Gods

In ancient times the hungry gods,
Imaged in wood or stone,
Enjoyed a living sacrifice
Of human flesh or bone.

Today the gods, more subtle, lurk
Where wheels and motors roar,
Though still the living sacrifice
Is offered as before.

~Stanton A. Coblents~

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