Quotes about waste, page 11
Pharsalia - Book IX: Cato
Yet in those ashes on the Pharian shore,
In that small heap of dust, was not confined
So great a shade; but from the limbs half burnt
And narrow cell sprang forth and sought the sky
Where dwells the Thunderer. Black the space of air
Upreaching to the poles that bear on high
The constellations in their nightly round;
There 'twixt the orbit of the moon and earth
Abide those lofty spirits, half divine,
Who by their blameless lives and fire of soul
Are fit to tolerate the pure expanse
That bounds the lower ether: there shall dwell,
Where nor the monument encased in gold,
Nor richest incense, shall suffice to bring
The buried dead, in union with the spheres,
Pompeius' spirit. When with heavenly light
His soul was filled, first on the wandering stars
And fixed orbs he bent his wondering gaze;
Then saw what darkness veils our earthly day
And scorned the insults heaped upon his corse.
[...] Read more
poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Lancelot And Elaine
Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable,
Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat,
High in her chamber up a tower to the east
Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot;
Which first she placed where the morning's earliest ray
Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam;
Then fearing rust or soilure fashioned for it
A case of silk, and braided thereupon
All the devices blazoned on the shield
In their own tinct, and added, of her wit,
A border fantasy of branch and flower,
And yellow-throated nestling in the nest.
Nor rested thus content, but day by day,
Leaving her household and good father, climbed
That eastern tower, and entering barred her door,
Stript off the case, and read the naked shield,
Now guessed a hidden meaning in his arms,
Now made a pretty history to herself
Of every dint a sword had beaten in it,
And every scratch a lance had made upon it,
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
VII. Pompilia
I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Raining in The Sea
I waste feasting the rich.
I waste pleasing the crooked.
I waste being chivalrous.
God wastes raining in the sea.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Waste is not waste
Life- It is a waste of time.
Time- It is a waste of life.
Life and time thus taste wasting.
Is wasting a waste?
04.03.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The waste
Road
waste more...
Walking...
Running...
Cycling...
Caring...
go and come
Not woory thear...
With waste...
Wastes is only waste...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Eat Healthy
Avoid
Condiments
On the food...
Condiments is
Making tasty of food...
But...
Healthy is
Dustely waste...
Waste is not
Food...
Food is not
Waste...
Make a food
With out condiments
Eat healthy...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The eventual waste
The food consumed goes waste.
The things acquired go waste.
The values given fall in vain.
The hopes built up fall in vain.
Trust shatters and faith fails.
So do all pursuits made.
The eventual waste is your life.
21.08.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
0026 Why Waste Time
Why waste time
on searching rhyme
unless the knowledge wants to sing?
why waste time
on searching rhyme
unless the joy can’t help but dance?
why waste time
on searching rhyme
unless the mind is full of sound?
then rhyme with time
and sing and dance
and lose your heart
to happenstance.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!