Quotes about cruelty, page 6
My Cottage Home
My cottage home! my cottage home!
How beautiful it lies,
Amid its quiet loveliness,
Beneath our bright blue skies.
A stranger's eye might mark it not,
Nor deem that it was fair;—
To me it is a lovely spot,
For those I love are there.
In summer there are wild flowers round,
And the tall forest weaves
A drapery of light and shade,
With its green and pleasant leaves;
And thousand birds are pouring out,
To the gay and singing breeze,
From the wild joys of their leaping hearts,
A thousand melodies.
The shadowing of an oak's green boughs
Is flung the low roof o'er;
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poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Curiosity Thy Name Is Ugliness
Those days,
The words and paths accompanied me.
Those days,
The words and insomnia were my companions.
How long and whereto
The carnal body goes along.
I am the every feature of mountains,
Oceans and wilderness.
My breath is the dew resting on leaves,
And Lo! Winds are busy
In wiping out my glistening foot-prints.
Look at my eyes,
They contain silence,
Of hundreds of extinguished grates
Once glaring bold.
I roamed bearing an inferno
In my breaths and thoughts,
Hauling my beacon of desire
Coated with blood.
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poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Gift From Prometheus To Mankind
In Greek Mythology there are many legends,
written about the cruelty, vindictiveness of the gods.
Zeus and the other gods in their petty jealousy,
rivalry often punished, sacrificed men like pawns.
Before the rule of Olympian Gods other Gods ruled.
These were the powerful Titans, the mighty elder gods.
Prometheus was the noblest of the sons of Uranus and Gaia.
Titans all three! Prometheus an arch-rebel and friend to man!
Prometheus belonged to the powerful race of Titans!
The powerful Titans, were cousins to the Olympian Gods,
whose constant hostility to man, Prometheus opposed!
Prometheus gave the wondrous gift of fire to man!
Hearing of this, in a rage Zeus, ordered Prometheus,
seized punished imprisoned; bound by steel chains!
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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May bleed with pain
My heart may bleed with pain
To find out the worth of being human with gain
It’s utility on earth and leading of as an entity
To be remembered or hated as personal quality
The ensuing festival has touched heart with grief
Millions of people are attached with strong belief
Has that really brought the kindness with brotherhood?
Do we ever wipe out the tears from the people of neighborhood?
If answer is yes, then we have achieved what father really wanted
His sacrifice is not in vain as the so many years were spent on being haunted
What did they get in turn for perpetuating inhuman treatment?
Did our father O, Lord utter a word or preferred to lament?
I weep when see the tearful eyes with a message
You waged a relentless love war throughout the age
You suffered so much for us to be called a non believer
You only wanted to be sufferer and our pain reliever
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Contemplation Of The Sword
Reason will not decide at last; the sword will decide.
The sword: an obsolete instrument of bronze or steel,
formerly used to kill men, but here
In the sense of a symbol. The sword: that is: the storms
and counter-storms of general destruction; killing
of men,
Destruction of all goods and materials; massacre, more or
less intentional, of children and women;
Destruction poured down from wings, the air made accomplice,
the innocent air
Perverted into assasin and poisoner.
The sword: that is: treachery and cowardice, incredible
baseness, incredible courage, loyalties, insanities.
The sword: weeping and despair, mass-enslavement,
mass-tourture, frustration of all hopes
That starred man's forhead. Tyranny for freedom, horror for
happiness, famine for bread, carrion for children.
Reason will not decide at last, the sword will decide.
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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Hellenistics
I look at the Greek-derived design that nourished my infancy
this Wedgwood copy of the Portland vase:
Someone had given it to my father my eyes at five years old
used to devour it by the hour.
I look at a Greek coin, four-drachma piece struck by Lysimachus:
young Alexander's head
With the horns of Ammon and brave brow-ridges, the bright
pride and immortal youth and wild sensitiveness.
I think of Achilles, Sappho, the Nike. I think of those mercenaries
who marched in the heart of Asia
And lived to salute the sea: the lean faces like lance-heads, the
grace of panthers. The dull welter of Asia.
I am past childhood, I look at this ocean and the fishing birds, the
streaming skerries, the shining water,
The foam-heads, the exultant dawn-light going west, the pelicans,
their huge wings half folded, plunging like stones.
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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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St. Maleu sequence
Saint Maleu Sequence
I.
Once we were all tourists
seeking on foot,
by horse or boat,
by plane and camera,
some other place -
by book, museum, library,
some other time.
But now “Was it Portugal or Ponsonby? ”
we ask. “Is everything on tape? ”
I too once wandered everywhere,
by foot and thought,
in marriage and in war,
searching for other minds
and freedom from my own.
One thing only I have learned,
kneeling inhuman on and on,
hearing the soft lament
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poem by Rob Dyer
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A Mahout's Tale
Gazing at a colossal giant standing gracefully tall
The heart rallies to engage a rare humanity's call
To free from a tether a bosom ally, from harrowing chains
For a walk towards freedom, to the vast opens of the forests and plains
My heroic breadwinner as displaced are the boughs and stubs
Yet the sorrowful heart valiantly wallops and clubs
My giant ally my livelihood's knight in shining armor
I've treated with scant respect at the dearth of heart's enamor
I remember the day when I encountered this giant's might
As the villagers fled in flocks in a frenzy of fright
Yet I remained strong against the delicate creature in front
As with a tranquilizer and net, I did encounter a creature to affront
As the days passed the creature metamorphosed to an angel
Like platonic lovers in a fairytale the beast in me with my mystical belle
Belle looks at me with her colossal eye lashes waving in the breeze
As I put on a shirt in creamy white sans a single crease
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poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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WHERE WARS ARE WON OR LOST & SEPTEMBER 11th
WHERE WARS ARE WON OR LOST & SEPTEMBER 11th
Wars are waged by older men
In battle rooms in countries apart.
Who call for greater firepower
And troops for the combat chart.
While out among the shattered flesh
The dreams of all have turned gray.
So young and determined their faces were
Till on the battlefield they lay.
Unable to overcome their pride
The politicians cast their vote.
For this or that or something else
As the rage of war sounds its note.
Wherever wars are won or lost
The soldiers fall like toys.
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poem by Tom Zart
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Sometimes clemency is cruelty, and cruelty clemency.
British proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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