Quotes about allied, page 7
Clock Striking
Did I hear the church-clock a few minutes ago,
I was asked, and I answered, I hardly did know,
But I thought that I heard it strike three.
Said my friend then, 'The blessings we always possess
We know not the want of, and prize them the less;
The church-clock was no new sound to thee.
'A young woman, afflicted with deafness a year,
By that sound you scarce heard, first perceived she could hear;
I was near her, and saw the girl start
With such exquisite wonder, such feelings of pride,
A happiness almost to terror allied,
She showed the sound went to her heart.'
poem by Charles Lamb
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Is Freud Felicity?
Love is decried
or set aside as subjectivity
unjustified by all allied to blind psychiatry.
Reflection cast,
one stands aghast! Is Freud felicity?
Is life a vast card-index classed interdependency?
Has true-love cried
so often, sighed in vain through history?
Is trust well-tried hate misapplied for doctoral degree?
A shell shut fast
‘gainst pulses fast of pure emotions free,
must give at last, or live outcast, - despite ‘ability’.
The truths inside
instincts abide, they’re blind who will not see, -
for none should hide, with hope denied, from creativity…
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Marriage Mystery
There was a man who said
I never knew what happiness was
Until I got married
And then it was too late
Before marriage,
A man yearns for the woman he loves
After marriage,
He earns for the women he loves
Maintain the social decorum
Marriage is social custom
Union of two soul
Sometimes by fair means
Often by foul
Decided by your means
Not by what you need
But decided by your creed
{This was written after thinking about the marriage and its allied benefits and harms.}
Shashikant Nishant Sharma 'साहिल'
[...] Read more
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
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Picture this (Partial Sonnet)
They say, 'a picture's worth a thousand words'.
A slight exageration, you might think?
This notion needs dispatching for the birds,
as scrutiny reveals the dubious link.
A saying that has entered modern myth,
attributed to sages of all kinds
to conjure up this mental monolyth
and plant a seeded image in our minds.
Confucius would confuse us for a while
when offered as the thought's potential source.
Until at last we recognise the style
allied with advertising needs, of course.
A picture's worth a thousand words? I guess.
But sometimes we see so much more,
when we say so much less.
poem by Hola Mentirosa
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Failsafe is Self Delusion
Deny temptations of soft ride,
ease superficial, risks unquantified,
choosing “safe way”, straight road comfort fed,
idea[l]s mediocre are poor guide,
deride free choice, autonomy, self pride, -
exchanging fad, conformity, for bread.
Despise stop-gap solutions qualified
everywhere as failsafe when, allied,
complacency and status found in bed,
incestuous are chosen for free ride,
denigrating options for scope wide,
endure more than participate, choice dread.
Dreams sacrificed to mirage fears short-sighted
turn self-prophetic, lead to future blighted.
(c) Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Jack Rubin
Rare was the spirit that has passed away,
Unfit the pen which inks its paper praise,
But few remain who knew him well. Time slays.
Insignificant our life, short Death's delay.
Now only his good works unite to say
Jack was both just and generous! His ways
Allied warmth, charm and acumen in phase,
Concern for others, loyalty. Yet may
Kindliness, philanthropy, dismay,
Rewards requiring, glitter, surface glaze.
Uncommon is the man whose many days
Bear witness with a beacon's constant ray.
In wit and sunny wisdom life he met,
Nor can one man more fair example set.
(28 February 1992)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Fate
Deep in the man sits fast his fate
To mould his fortunes, mean or great:
Unknown to Cromwell as to me
Was Cromwell's measure or degree;
Unknown to him as to his horse,
If he than his groom be better or worse.
He works, plots, fights, in rude affairs,
With squires, lords, kings, his craft compares,
Till late he learned, through doubt and fear,
Broad England harbored not his peer:
Obeying time, the last to own
The Genius from its cloudy throne.
For the prevision is allied
Unto the thing so signified;
Or say, the foresight that awaits
Is the same Genius that creates.
poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Sonnet XV: The Birth-Bond
Have you not noted, in some family
Where two were born of a first marriage-bed,
How still they own their gracious bond, though fed
And nursed on the forgotten breast and knee?—
How to their father's children they shall be
In act and thought of one goodwill; but each
Shall for the other have, in silence speech,
And in a word complete community?
Even so, when first I saw you, seemed it, love,
That among souls allied to mine was yet
One nearer kindred than life hinted of.
O born with me somewhere that men forget,
And though in years of sight and sound unmet,
Known for my soul's birth-partner well enough!
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Soul-Sickness
How many of the body's health complain,
When they some deeper malady conceal;
Some unrest of the soul, some secret pain,
Which thus its presence doth to them reveal.
Vain would we seek, by the physician's aid,
A name for this soul-sickness e'er to find;
A remedy for health and strength decayed,
Whose cause and cure are wholly of the mind
To higher nature is the soul allied,
And restless seeks its being's Source to know;
Finding not health nor strength in aught beside;
How often vainly sought in things below,
Whether in sunny clime, or sacred stream,
Or plant of wondrous powers of which we dream!
poem by Jones Very
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Sonnet XVIII: Why Art Thou Chang'd?
Why art thou chang'd? O Phaon! tell me why?
Love flies reproach, when passion feels decay;
Or, I would paint the raptures of that day,
When, in sweet converse, mingling sigh with sigh,
I mark'd the graceful languor of thine eye
As on a shady bank entranc'd we lay:
O! Eyes! whose beamy radiance stole away
As stars fade trembling from the burning sky!
Why art thou chang'd? dear source of all my woes!
Though dark my bosom's tint, through ev'ry vein
A ruby tide of purest lustre flows,
Warm'd by thy love, or chill'd by thy disdain;
And yet no bliss this sensate Being knows;
Ah! why is rapture so allied to pain?
poem by Mary Darby Robinson
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