Quotes about lasted, page 21
Ambition
Unless it was that day I never knew
Ambition. After a night of frost, before
The March sun brightened and the South-west blew,
Jackdaws began to shout and float and soar
Already, and one was racing straight and high
Alone, shouting like a black warrior
Challenges and menaces to the wide sky.
With loud long laughter then a woodpecker
Ridiculed the sadness of the owl's last cry.
And through the valley where all the folk astir
Made only plumes of pearly smoke to tower
Over dark trees and white meadows happier
Than was Elysium in that happy hour,
A train that roared along raised after it
And carried with it a motionless white bower
Of purest cloud, from end to end close-knit,
So fair it touched the roar with silence. Time
Was powerless while that lasted. I could sit
And think I had made the loveliness of prime,
Breathed its life into it and were its lord,
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poem by Edward Thomas
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Tantrum for Sidi Mahtrow
Storm clouds massing threateningly
had turned the sky gun metal gray.
The world waited expectantly,
a thunder storm was on its way.
Silence reigned and nothing stirred.
The breeze disturbed no single leaf
There were no bird calls to be heard.
It was as if I had gone deaf.
The silence was itself a threat
a promise of what was to come.
A copper plated certain bet.
The thunder rolling like a drum.
Foretold the coming of the rain
in driving sheets across the moors.
The wind was howling out its pain,
behind the rain the driving force.
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A Winter of Discontent
I remember a winter a few decades ago.
Where our dear England was covered in snow.
It started on Boxing Day with a blizzard from hell
then in the course of a week the snow just fell.
This once green paradise was now a shroud of white
and everyone was suffering from chillblains and frostbite.
Outdoor life was like an indoor fridge
where everything had frozen like a mountain ridge.
Abandon lorries on the side of the road
men were freezing even their load.
Villages cut off all over the land
so in came the troops to lend a hand.
This was the winter of discontent that lasted from
Christmas, and way past Lent.
As one lot of snow cleared, it would return again
to bring freezing cold tempretures and a lot of pain.
Wind would blow both night and day, and still the snow
never went away.Drifts of snow standing six foot high
just being topped up with snow from a winter sky.
So what of this winter of ice and snow
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poem by Sylvia Spencer
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Ron
He has lost the inspiration of his life
And he must grow old without Annie his wife
They had been married for twenty two years
And memories of her still has him near to tears.
She was forty six when she passed on two years ago
And she did not live to see their grandchildren grow
Into young adults it was her wish to see
Her first great grandchild baptized but it wasn't meant to be.
Without his beloved Annie who had the 'heart of gold'
Ron in his early fifties must grow old
She was his soul mate and to him remained true
And together love and happiness they knew
Theirs was a true love that lasted till the end
She was his heroine and his dearest friend
And one as good as her he could not wish for to meet again
And the memories with him always will remain
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poem by Francis Duggan
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Libera Me
Goddess the laughter-loving, Aphrodite, befriend!
Long have I served thine altars, serve me now at the end,
Let me have peace of thee, truce of thee, golden one, send.
Heart of my heart have I offered thee, pain of my pain,
Yielding my life for the love of thee into thy chain;
Lady and goddess be merciful, loose me again.
All things I had that were fairest, my dearest and best,
Fed the fierce flames on thine altar: ah, surely, my breast
Shrined thee alone among goddesses, spurning the rest.
Blossom of youth thou hast plucked of me, flower of my days;
Stinted I nought in thine honouring, walked in thy ways,
Song of my soul pouring out to thee, all in thy praise.
Fierce was the flame while it lasted, and strong was thy wine,
Meet for immortals that die not, for throats such as thine,
Too fierce for bodies of mortals, too potent for mine.
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poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Bob Forsch R.I.P.
His heart, like a knuckle ball,
fluttered in his chest.
A most unwelcome pressure-
he felt his chest compressed.
One week before he stood in awe
upon the mound at Busch.
Cameras flashed as he let fly
the ceremonial first pitch.
A champion in eighty two,
A Card for fifteen years.
Bob Forsch, A loved familiar name
brought out before the seventh game.
The first pitch that he threw that night
would also prove to be his last.
The Cards went on to victory
adding to their storied past.
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poem by John F. McCullagh
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Silent Suicide...
Love makes you feel like a butterfly in a paradise,
Sometimes it takes a tragic end,
How does someone goes rude with the latter,
Many of them need former more than the water,
I will tell you the story of beauty and the beast,
Beneath words could be exaggerated but you will get a gist,
Love, the bloodiest, the bitchest nullified the beast,
He went in on and on like a psychic shit,
He was a bullet for beauty, loaded and stained,
Beauty played wicked game, turning him a foe to his friends,
Beast believed her,
Relations lasted perfect till money jingled his pockets,
Money lost, leaving him to drown with no life jackets,
Dark days hindered his skills, persona and performance,
He sucked himself in psychotic cluster and went real arrogant,
He was unable to digest that he was ditched,
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poem by Vikrant Jog
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The Miracle of the Sun at Fatima, Portugal, Oct 13th,1917
The sun stood still in the horizon clear,
And looked as bright as one, they all had seen;
But they could look at it without fear,
Sans blinking, delighted by its sheen.
This lasted but a moment, then!
And as the multitude gazed
The sun began to dance
And whirled rapidly and dazed
Like a giant fire-wheel!
After sometime, it stopped.
It rotated again with speed
Increasingly, making the on-lookers dizzy;
And from its crimson rim arose
Blood-red streamers of flame in sky
That touched all things on earth
In a colourful bright spectrum.
Three times, the sun gyrated thus;
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poem by John Celes
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Napoleon's Farewell (From The French)
I.
Farewell to the Land where the gloom of my Glory
Arose and o'ershadow'd the earth with her name--
She abandons me now--but the page of her story,
The brightest or blackest, is fill'd with my fame.
I have warr'd with a world which vanquish'd me only
When the meteor of conquest allured me too far;
I have coped with the nations which dread me thus lonely,
The last single Captive to millions in war.
II.
Farewell to thee, France! when thy diadem crown'd me,
I made thee the gem and the wonder of earth,
But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found thee,
Decay'd in thy glory, and sunk in thy worth.
Oh! for the veteran hearts that were wasted
In strife with the storm, when their battles were won
Then the Eagle, whose gaze in that moment was lasted,
Had still soar'd with eyes fix'd on victory's sun!
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Acknowledgement
The death knell sounds and echoes round
the confines of the burial ground
The tolling bell seems to foretell.
Life will become a lonely hell.
My love is gone, she’s travelled on,
her race is run and she has won.
No longer bound by gravity
she’s earned her wings and she is free.
By sadness I am overcome.
I am struck dumb, completely numb.
I cannot cry although I try.
The wellspring of my tears run dry
The mourners murmur quietly
but no one comes to comfort me.
This does not come as a surprise.
They do not seem to realise
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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