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Sorrows come uninvited.

Latin proverbs
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The Uninvited Guest

(music: marillion lyrics: steve hogarth & john helmer)
You may not recall the moment that you asked me
But your invitation was clear
Youll pretend youve never met me
But its far to late
Now Im here
Cause Im the one who knows what scares you
Im the one who loves you best
Im the thirteenth at the table
Im the uninvited guest
Im the banquo at your banquet
Im the cuckoo in your nest
Im your fifteen stone first-footer
Im the uninvited guest
I was there when you said insincere I love yous
To a woman that wasnt your wife
And I fronted you the money
That you ran away and blew
On the biggest regret of your live
Cause Im the one who knows what scares you
Im the who loves you best
Im the thirteenth at the table
Im the uninvited guest
Im the banquo at your banquet
Im the cuckoo in your nest
Im your new years resolution
Im the uninvited guest
Im the face you hoped youd never see
But always knew you would
Im the one thing you knew you shouldnt do
But did because you could
Im the evil in your bloodstream
Im the rash upon your skin
And you made a big mistake alright
The day you let me in
And you can fly to the other side of the world
You know youll only find
Ive reserved the seat behind you
We can talk about old times
Cause Im the one who knows what scares you
Im the who loves you best
Im the thirteenth at the table
Im the uninvited guest
Im the banquo at your banquet
Im the cuckoo in your nest
Im your fifteen stone first-footer
Im the uninvited guest
Im you new years resolution
Im the uninvited guest

song performed by Marillion
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sorrow Makes One A Hero Tomorrow

Without sorrow life is zero
We must accept fate's arrow
If our efforts are thorough
Our sorrow, God will borrow

Sorrows nicely shape our mind
Sorrows stop our being blind
Via sorrows, remedies we find
Sorrows are indirectly kind

In the absence of sorrow
Our mind does not grow
We think not like a hero
Our attitude is made narrow

Sorrows must be overcome
For which efforts we welcome
At last strong we become
This is sorrows' outcome

Our will-power, sorrows increase
To our heart, sorrows supply grease
Our talents, only sorrows release
In a gist, sorrows supply peace

Every sorrow at last dies
Not because of our cries
But because our soul tries
Life and success, sorrow ties

Sorrow less person is none
Sorrow is sure, if life has begun
'Sorrow trains brains' is a slogan
Sorrow is a tamable dragon

In sorrow, all must dip
By coming under its grip
All are lashed by sorrow's whip
To every life, sorrow makes a trip

Now sorrow will somehow vanish
But you cannot fully relinquish
Further sorrows, time will furnish
From life, sorrow, none can banish

Life and sorrow are closely associated
By life, sorrow is very much fascinated
By sorrow, peace is initially confiscated
Sorrow grows when life is sophisticated.

poem by Mailrangam Visvanathan Venkataraman
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Fish With Fritter Patties

Please don't say I'm uninvited.
I came to leave some peace.
And you want to play deceiver.

Please don't say I'm uninvited.
I came to leave some peace.
And you want to play deceiver.

I don't want to lay more battles down to fight.
I rather you fry some fish...
And we can sit to reminisce,
Tonight.

Let's forgive and turn things wrong and make them right.
Discuss like adults with results that's eye to eye.

With a meal you cook to hook me.
To get me whipped for whoopee.
Let's forgive and turn things wrong and make them right.
You know I'm satisfied when you hear me sigh!

But when the money gets funny,
You're nowhere by my side.

Please don't say I'm uninvited.
I came to leave some peace.
And you want to play deceiver.

Please don't say I'm uninvited.
I came to leave some peace.
And you want to play deceiver.
To have me chase your beaver.

'WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU SAYING? '

Please don't say I'm uninvited.
I brought some fish to fry.
With whoopee booted on my mind!

'You are sick and nasty!
I will fry the fish with fritter patties.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Pan Of Sorrows

I will give you the grain of tears,
Roast my sorrows in your pan,
O, tender of the fire.

Tender of the fire, branch of magnolia,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.

I am late already,
The shadows are fading,
The cattle have returned,
From the forest.
The birds have raised their clamor.
Roast my sorrows in your pan,
Tender of the fire.

Hurry, be quick,
I have far to go,
To the place
Where my companions have gone.
I have heard the road to that town is difficult
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.

When my turn comes,
Your bale of kindling is damp.
Why has your earthen pan
Become flaccid?
What has gone wrong with your fire?
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.

Mine is just a handful of grains,
Roast them, and let me go on my way,
Don't leave them raw,
Roast them well.
I beg you, bring an end to this wrangling,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.

The wind has dropped,
Its mournful weeping ended.
A sweet heat
Is rising in the stars.
My breaths are like a marriage procession
Whose bridegroom is displeased.
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
O tender of the fire.

Tender of the fire, branch of magnolia,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.

poem by Shiv Kumar Batalvi
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Tale XVI

THE CONFIDANT.

Anna was young and lovely--in her eye
The glance of beauty, in her cheek the dye:
Her shape was slender, and her features small,
But graceful, easy, unaffected all:
The liveliest tints her youthful face disclosed;
There beauty sparkled, and there health reposed;
For the pure blood that flush'd that rosy cheek
Spoke what the heart forbade the tongue to speak,
And told the feelings of that heart as well,
Nay, with more candour than the tongue could tell.
Though this fair lass had with the wealthy dwelt,
Yet like the damsel of the cot she felt;
And, at the distant hint or dark surmise,
The blood into the mantling cheek would rise.
Now Anna's station frequent terrors wrought,
In one whose looks were with such meaning fraught,
For on a Lady, as an humble friend,
It was her painful office to attend.
Her duties here were of the usual kind -
And some the body harass'd, some the mind:
Billets she wrote, and tender stories read,
To make the Lady sleepy in her bed;
She play'd at whist, but with inferior skill,
And heard the summons as a call to drill;
Music was ever pleasant till she play'd
At a request that no request convey'd;
The Lady's tales with anxious looks she heard,
For she must witness what her Friend averr'd;
The Lady's taste she must in all approve,
Hate whom she hated, whom she lov'd must love;
These, with the various duties of her place,
With care she studied, and perform'd with grace:
She veil'd her troubles in a mask of ease,
And show'd her pleasure was a power to please.
Such were the damsel's duties: she was poor -
Above a servant, but with service more:
Men on her face with careless freedom gaz'd,
Nor thought how painful was the glow they raised.
A wealthy few to gain her favour tried,
But not the favour of a grateful bride;
They spoke their purpose with an easy air,
That shamed and frighten'd the dependent fair;
Past time she view'd, the passing time to cheat,
But nothing found to make the present sweet:
With pensive soul she read life's future page,
And saw dependent, poor, repining age.
But who shall dare t'assert what years may

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Uninvited

Like anyone would be
I am flattered by your fascination with me
Like any hot blooded woman
I have simply wanted an object to crave
But you're not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight

Must be strangely exciting
To watch the stoic squirm
Must be somewhat heartening
To watch shepard meet shepard
But you're not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight

Like any uncharted territory
I must seem greatly intriguing
You speak of my love like
You have experienced like mine before
But this is not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight

I don't think you unworthy
I need a moment to deliberate

song performed by Alanis Morissette from City Of Angels soundtrack
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Need Not To Be Repossessed

Why can't you accept where those boundaries are?
Why must you treat yourself to a round of disrespecting me?
When you have clearly,
Tracked yourself uninvited...
Into my zone.
As peace and I were sharing some alone time.

You've come to me as if I pay you rent.
And I don't have the sense to know you own it.
MY 'space'.
And you came today to collect,
Another argument?
One I'm going to sit to listen and condone?

Why can't you accept where those boundaries are?
Why must you treat yourself to a round of disrespecting me?
When you have clearly,
Tracked yourself uninvited...
Into my zone.
As peace and I were sharing some alone time.

There is not a rule I obey,
Without first going into consultation with God.
And I would not be surprised if you found that odd.
Not an eyebrow would quickly lift upon you admitting this.

Possessing a need to control,
Is your issue.
And the need 'not' to be repossessed,
Is mine!

Why can't you accept where those boundaries are?
Why must you treat yourself to a round of disrespecting me?
When you have clearly,
Tracked yourself uninvited...
Into my zone.
As peace and I were sharing some alone time.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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(Getting) Sorrows

And even now you're who I will miss
Guess you are why I don't face any bliss
Guess it's brilliant
How fell for you before I'd hit that sack
But it was just a cumbersome fact
Tears are streaming
Tears always now steaming

For there's only waits when I sit in these old bars
For blind again just due to the smoke of cigars
Form fades from good when I cry from afar

As for now I'm getting sorrows
Fight against chances that are gone
Here I am again as getting sorrows
Fight that are gone
Has got no new good fun yet no new good fun

As you're the reason why I still heave
For maybe you're the reason why I feel deep
Who to even be…
At the moment I dunno me

For there's only waits when I sit in these old bars
For blind again just due to the smoke of cigars
It fades from any good when I cry from afar
When I cry from afar as I'll cry from afar

As for now I'm getting sorrows
Fight against chances that are gone
Here I am again as getting sorrows
Fight that are gone
Has got no new good fun yet no new good fun

Coat my eyes with that of wool
As there's always lies
Won't expose my heartfelt pines even though it's a while
May not show it a while

As for now I'm getting sorrows
Fight against chances that are gone
Here I am again as getting sorrows
Fight that are gone
Has got no new good fun yet no new good fun

But I cannot break myself yet so free
Yet you're how I did misconceive
Just stuck to be
As there's nobody else I can be

poem by Rich Downes
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Silver

In this land of strangers
There are dangers
There are sorrows
I cant see this lady
It is shady
I am leaving tomorrow
Tomorrow
Tomorrow
Even theres a reason
Its silver
Its gone
In this land of strangers
There are dangers
There are sorrows
Sorrows
Sorrows
Sorrows

song performed by Pixies
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Bakchesarian Fountain

A TALE OF THE TAURIDE.
Mute sat Giray, with downcast eye,
As though some spell in sorrow bound him,
His slavish courtiers thronging nigh,
In sad expectance stood around him.
The lips of all had silence sealed,
Whilst, bent on him, each look observant,
Saw grief's deep trace and passion fervent
Upon his gloomy brow revealed.
But the proud Khan his dark eye raising,
And on the courtiers fiercely gazing,
Gave signal to them to begone!
The chief, unwitnessed and alone,
Now yields him to his bosom's smart,
Deeper upon his brow severe
Is traced the anguish of his heart;
As full fraught clouds on mirrors clear
Reflected terrible appear!

What fills that haughty soul with pain?
What thoughts such madd'ning tumults cause?
With Russia plots he war again?
Would he to Poland dictate laws?
Say, is the sword of vengeance glancing?
Does bold revolt claim nature's right?
Do realms oppressed alarm excite?
Or sabres of fierce foes advancing?
Ah no! no more his proud steed prancing
Beneath him guides the Khan to war,-
Such thoughts his mind has banished far.

Has treason scaled the harem's wall,
Whose height might treason's self appal,
And slavery's daughter fled his power,
To yield her to the daring Giaour?

No! pining in his harem sadly,
No wife of his would act so madly;
To wish or think they scarcely dare;
By wretches, cold and heartless, guarded,
Hope from each breast so long discarded;
Treason could never enter there.
Their beauties unto none revealed,
They bloom within the harem's towers,
As in a hot-house bloom the flowers
Which erst perfumed Arabia's field.
To them the days in sameness dreary,

[...] Read more

poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Our Lady of Sorrows (Feast day: September,15th)

O Lady of Sorrows! Please hear
Our grief and add them to yours, dear;
With swollen eyes and bloody tear,
You showed to farmers near.

‘To farmers two,
At Milan’s Rho,
When they came to
See you! ’

The blessed pieta
Became a miracle
Bringing millions to
The Griever’s Basilica!

The blood-stained kerchief lies
In a silver reliquary;
As proof of the miracle
To world today, it stays!

With dead Christ on her lap,
His mother seated, grieves;
Besides her sorrows own,
Mankind’s too, she receives!

O heart of Mary pure,
What sorrows, you endure!
For love of Christ and God,
You suffered for our Lord!

Mary’s most holiness
Won her the grace of God,
To bear her sorrows all,
And sufferings, so odd.

None could predict ever
Or gauge her sufferings;
Since Simeon’s prophecy,
She suffered silently!

The Virgin bore a Son
By Holy Spirit’s power;
She had to see Him die
For man’s sins on cross!

What pain had filled her heart!
How anguished she felt from start!
Her Son and Lord, her life and love
Had to suffer and depart!

[...] Read more

poem by John Celes
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The Parish Register - Part III: Burials

THERE was, 'tis said, and I believe, a time
When humble Christians died with views sublime;
When all were ready for their faith to bleed,
But few to write or wrangle for their creed;
When lively Faith upheld the sinking heart,
And friends, assured to meet, prepared to part;
When Love felt hope, when Sorrow grew serene,
And all was comfort in the death-bed scene.
Alas! when now the gloomy king they wait,
'Tis weakness yielding to resistless fate;
Like wretched men upon the ocean cast,
They labour hard and struggle to the last;
'Hope against hope,' and wildly gaze around
In search of help that never shall be found:
Nor, till the last strong billow stops the breath,
Will they believe them in the jaws of Death!
When these my Records I reflecting read,
And find what ills these numerous births succeed;
What powerful griefs these nuptial ties attend;
With what regret these painful journeys end;
When from the cradle to the grave I look,
Mine I conceive a melancholy book.
Where now is perfect resignation seen?
Alas! it is not on the village-green: -
I've seldom known, though I have often read,
Of happy peasants on their dying-bed;
Whose looks proclaimed that sunshine of the breast,
That more than hope, that Heaven itself express'd.
What I behold are feverish fits of strife,
'Twixt fears of dying and desire of life:
Those earthly hopes, that to the last endure;
Those fears, that hopes superior fail to cure;
At best a sad submission to the doom,
Which, turning from the danger, lets it come.
Sick lies the man, bewilder'd, lost, afraid,
His spirits vanquish'd, and his strength decay'd;
No hope the friend, the nurse, the doctor lend -
'Call then a priest, and fit him for his end.'
A priest is call'd; 'tis now, alas! too late,
Death enters with him at the cottage-gate;
Or time allow'd--he goes, assured to find
The self-commending, all-confiding mind;
And sighs to hear, what we may justly call
Death's common-place, the train of thought in all.
'True I'm a sinner,' feebly he begins,
'But trust in Mercy to forgive my sins:'
(Such cool confession no past crimes excite!
Such claim on Mercy seems the sinner's right!)
'I know mankind are frail, that God is just,
And pardons those who in his Mercy trust;

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Sorrows

My sorrows consumes me,
There won’t be a tomorrow,
There won’t be a light that shines above me,
There won’t be me anymore,
The way I feel,
The hate I feel,
My heart is breaking,
Its aching,
I am crying for this pain to end,
Today is no ordinary day for me,
Today’s the day I feel more drifting apart from this world,
My sorrows won’t go away,
My deep thoughts in my head leaves me laying dead,
I didn’t mean to lead this pain on and on again,
Look at me now,
I am falling apart,
Apart into million pieces,
This sorrow keeps on going into my thoughts,
This heart break makes me wanna cry over and over again,
My sorrows won’t fade away,
Is this me,
The me I have been waiting for,
Too many times my sorrows has over come me,
This is not me anymore,
This is my sorrows that makes me feel all sad inside.

poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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A Nupial Eve (excerpt)

The murmur of the mourning ghost
That keeps the shadowy kine,
"Oh, Keith of Ravelston,
The sorrows of thy line!"

Ravelston, Ravelston,
The merry path that leads
Down the golden morning hill,
And thro' the silver meads;

Ravelston, Ravelston,
The stile beneath the tree,
The maid that kept her mother's kine,
The song that sang she!

She sang her song, she kept her kine,
She sat beneath the thorn,
When Andrew Keith of Ravelston
Rode thro' the Monday morn.

His henchmen sing, his hawk-bells ring,
His belted jewels shine!
Oh, Keith of Ravelston,
The sorrows of thy line!

Year after year, where Andrew came,
Comes evening down the glade,
And still there sits a moonshine ghost
Where sat the sunshine maid.

Her misty hair is faint and fair,
She keeps the shadowy kine;
Oh, Keith of Ravelston,
The sorrows of thy line!

I lay my hand upon the stile,
The stile is lone and cold,
The burnie that goes babbling by
Says nought that can be told.

Yet, stranger! here, from year to year,
She keeps her shadowy kine;
Oh, Keith of Ravelston,
The sorrows of thy line!

Step out three steps, where Andrew stood--
Why blanch thy cheeks for fear?
The ancient stile is not alone,
'Tis not the burn I hear!

[...] Read more

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Keith Of Ravelston

The murmur of the mourning ghost
That keeps the shadowy kine,
'O Keith of Ravelston,
The sorrows of thy line!'

Ravelston, Ravelston,
The merry path that leads
Down the golden morning hill,
And thro' the silver meads;

Ravelston, Ravelston,
The stile beneath the tree,
The maid that kept her mother's kine,
The song that sang she!

She sang her song, she kept her kine,
She sat beneath the thorn,
When Andrew Keith of Ravelston
Rode thro' the Monday morn.

His henchman sing, his hawk-bells ring,
His belted jewels shine;
O Keith of Ravelston,
The sorrows of thy line!

Year after year, where Andrew came,
Comes evening down the glade,
And still there sits a moonshine ghost
Where sat the sunshine maid.

Her misty hair is faint and fair,
She keeps the shadowy kine;
O Keith of Ravelston,
The sorrows of thy line!

I lay my hand upon the stile,
The stile is lone and cold,
The burnie that goes babbling by
Says naught that can be told.

Yet, stranger! here, from year to year,
She keeps her shadowy kine;
O Keith of Ravelston,
The sorrows of thy line!

Step out three steps, where Andrew stood -
Why blanch thy cheeks for fear?
The ancient stile is not alone,
'Tis not the burn I hear!

[...] Read more

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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The storms of Life

Sometimes sad things happen in our life
they flare up suddenly and cause us strife.
The barriers that we put up against the flow
break down in floods of tears and sorrow.

Troubles fall like raindrops pelting down
welling into a flood in which we might drown.
We do our utmost to cope with the strain
but so many hurts cause our soul much pain.

Like in storms the raindrops seem really huge
and they gather into an irresistible deluge.
They test the fortitude of our minds defence
and when they burst through the pain's intense.

As we lay in bed in the early hours of the day
we cannot withstand them to our dismay.
They come crashing in like a forceful torrent
causing tears to flow out of us as we lament.

We cry out in anguish great sobs of sorrow
at the pain that comes as we work them through.
Our hearts despair at the turmoil that they bring
overwhelmed, we feel unable to do anything.

We become less resistant as the years go by
unable to withstand them and we wonder why
our human frailty is being tested to this extent
straining under the weight of our predicament.

We feel the deep hurt and the pain they bring
and would rather live in a world of no suffering.
They add to the burden of each passing day
and we would that they were banished away.

Sorrows well up from deep within our soul
as the anguish and suffering takes it toll.
It reminds us of the great 'Man of Sorrows'
who feels all our heartache, pains and woes.

'Come to me Oh weary one' Jesus said
'lay down your burdens at my feet instead.
For my yoke is easy and my burden is light
you'll find rest for you soul, it will be alright.'

We rise up from our bed of pain and gloom
and find our way to that blessed upper room.
There we sit at the feet of the Lord and cry out
wondering what these sufferings are all about.

[...] Read more

poem by Royston
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The Uninvited Guest

Her ghost is there
I can see the outline of her shadow traced in the air
Sometimes I see her bended over your shoulder
I think what lies has she told you
And I see a smile light up your face
You like what she says
And I wanna cry, its killin me
But I play dumb instead
(*) shes the uninvited guest who lives in our house
Shes the other woman whos on your mind
Whos in your life
Id have to be blind not to see it, not to feel it
And Im runnin second best
To the uninvited guest and its breaking my heart
You dont know how I know
If it all was in the open, youd deny that it its so
Just like the old song torn between two lovers
Its not happening to others
Its happening to you and me and the pain is intense
I should leave you but I love you though
It doesnt make sense
Repeat (*)
I should leave you but I love you though
It doesnt make sense
Repeat (*)
Its breaking my heart

song performed by Carpenters
Added by Lucian Velea
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Happiness...

To know DESPAIR
and not to dislike it somehow
because it visits us once in a while
uninvited

We cannot just drive it
because it is related to
Joy and we must all welcome
a friend of our friends
a relative of our relatives

Take Despair as is
Feed it and Give it some drinks
AT night listen to its
Hang-ups and always
make it feel
that you too studied well
your psychology
and understood
what life (and death)
is all about

It will stay for days and nights

Be flattered
Perhaps it likes the way you
deal with it

It tempts you somehow
about the beauty of Suicide
Just refuse
Say your black and white NO
Do not betray
Bliss, and Beauty and Truth
and Goodness
that you still have
inside your hands
and heart

Despair like any Creature
also Experiences boredom
and then it decides to leave you
and because you have been patient
tender
and gentle
all along
You must have noticed
that you have changed a bit
Now getting bolder
and Stronger and

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lamia. Part II

Love in a hut, with water and a crust,
Is—Love, forgive us!—cinders, ashes, dust;
Love in a palace is perhaps at last
More grievous torment than a hermit’s fast:—
That is a doubtful tale from faery land,
Hard for the non-elect to understand.
Had Lycius liv’d to hand his story down,
He might have given the moral a fresh frown,
Or clench’d it quite: but too short was their bliss
To breed distrust and hate, that make the soft voice hiss.
Besides, there, nightly, with terrific glare,
Love, jealous grown of so complete a pair,
Hover’d and buzz’d his wings, with fearful roar,
Above the lintel of their chamber door,
And down the passage cast a glow upon the floor.

For all this came a ruin: side by side
They were enthroned, in the even tide,
Upon a couch, near to a curtaining
Whose airy texture, from a golden string,
Floated into the room, and let appear
Unveil’d the summer heaven, blue and clear,
Betwixt two marble shafts:—there they reposed,
Where use had made it sweet, with eyelids closed,
Saving a tythe which love still open kept,
That they might see each other while they almost slept;
When from the slope side of a suburb hill,
Deafening the swallow’s twitter, came a thrill
Of trumpets—Lycius started—the sounds fled,
But left a thought, a buzzing in his head.
For the first time, since first he harbour’d in
That purple-lined palace of sweet sin,
His spirit pass’d beyond its golden bourn
Into the noisy world almost forsworn.
The lady, ever watchful, penetrant,
Saw this with pain, so arguing a want
Of something more, more than her empery
Of joys; and she began to moan and sigh
Because he mused beyond her, knowing well
That but a moment’s thought is passion’s passing bell.
“Why do you sigh, fair creature?” whisper’d he:
“Why do you think?” return’d she tenderly:
“You have deserted me;—where am I now?
“Not in your heart while care weighs on your brow:
“No, no, you have dismiss’d me; and I go
“From your breast houseless: ay, it must be so.”
He answer’d, bending to her open eyes,
Where he was mirror’d small in paradise,
“My silver planet, both of eve and morn!
“Why will you plead yourself so sad forlorn,

[...] Read more

poem by John Keats
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Drown my sorrows

Drown me,
Drown my depression,
Drown my sorrows,
All the things I have done hurts me inside,
I told myself that everything will be alright,
We shared so much,
All I ever asked myself to drown my sorrows,
When I look back the picture of how happy were,
I wish things will be fine between us,
Drown my sorrows,
Wash away the pain,
Wipe away my tears,
The chapter of my life is incomplete,
I was complete once but ever since I let you go,
I lost apart of me,
Drown me,
Drown my sorrows.

poem by Jennifer Rondeau
Added by Poetry Lover
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