Quotes about amazon, page 8
Canto XII from The Heights of Macchu Picchu
Arise to birth with me, my brother.
Give me your hand out of the depths
sown by your sorrows.
You will not return from these stone fastnesses.
You will not emerge from subterranean time.
Your rasping voice will not come back,
nor your pierced eyes rise from their sockets.
Look at me from the depths of the earth,
tiller of fields, weaver, reticent shepherd,
groom of totemic guanacos,
mason high on your treacherous scaffolding,
iceman of Andean tears,
jeweler with crushed fingers,
farmer anxious among his seedlings,
potter wasted among his clays--
bring to the cup of this new life
your ancient buried sorrows.
Show me your blood and your furrow;
say to me: here I was scourged
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poem by Pablo Neruda
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Women I Know
Strong are the women
In my family.
Every last one...
Seem to have the strength,
To shadow some men...
As if they had none!
And f-i-n-e! Yes!
Beautiful with power.
Mothers who have raised children.
Some without their fathers.
To become themselves...
Strong and bright!
And dynamic in one's sight!
And yes...
They too,
Are f-i-n-e!
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Close To Jesus
Close to Jesus, so few have been, yet with their stories told,
Through these we see the Nazarene, the Saviour to behold...
From birth to death and far beyond, God's Son has proved His worth
And thus, to Him, we each respond, while we live on this Earth...
Of those we know, some prophets shared what they perceived of Christ,
At whom the disbelievers stared the day He was baptised...
Yet John the Baptist spoke the truth, 'Behold the Lamb of God! '
Though just to them, He seemed a youth, for these, He shed His Blood!
To think, He healed the sick He met and those then brought to Him,
Forgiving sins that caused regret, for guilt can make us grim...
The multitudes were like lost sheep, each one had lost his way,
When God's commands they wouldn't keep, He taught them how to pray.
But while His fame was widely known, disciples came and went,
Until Saint Peter stood alone and called Him Heaven-sent...
'You are the Christ, God's promised Son! No other can we seek!
You speak the words, then deeds are done that make You quite unique! '
Though Peter knew the truth full well, the Saviour he denied!
Three times he lied and wouldn't tell, with Christ soon crucified...
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Pedagogues (So Superior) [REVISED]
I am highly suspicious reading how two supercilious,
pedantic pedagogues (so superior) , reduce the whole
world to a kindergarten in which materialist orthodoxy
alone knows anything
The rest of civilization is depicted as idiots and fools
in The Science of Discworld (Revised Edition) , where
Stewart and Cohen wrote chapters on science and
Pratchett described tomfoolery of the Wizards
on the Discworld, definitely fun to read –
But a haughty, condescending tone of its boring
overview of Western science and evolution, based
on assumptions the universe is dead except for
human minds, is nauseating –
reminding of Sir David Attenborough presenting
every hypothesis and theoretic assumption as the
gospel truth. Clearly it is true that science consists
of lies for children, these narrators are scintillating
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Cry Of A Lost Soul
In that black forest, where, when day is done,
With a snake's stillness glides the Amazon
Darkly from sunset to the rising sun,
A cry, as of the pained heart of the wood,
The long, despairing moan of solitude
And darkness and the absence of all good,
Startles the traveller, with a sound so drear,
So full of hopeless agony and fear,
His heart stands still and listens like his ear.
The guide, as if he heard a dead-bell toll,
Starts, drops his oar against the gunwale's thole,
Crosses himself, and whispers, 'A lost soul!'
'No, Senor, not a bird. I know it well,--
It is the pained soul of some infidel
Or cursed heretic that cries from hell.
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poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Howl Revisited
for Allen Ginsberg
I saw the best minds as
the stray dogs
of my generation,
wagging their fluffy tails,
howling apocalyptic
announcements in buses
and on subways trains,
in supermarkets and
colleges campuses-
barking about something
extremely important
like Kafka and busty blondes,
revealing the utter banality
of our ever collapsing
Western civilization,
reminiscent of some Goya
paintings, smudged with lipstick,
rouge, powders and mascara-
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poem by Alexander Shaumyan (9 January 2010)
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Sisina
Imaginez Diane en galant équipage,
Parcourant les forêts ou battant les halliers,
Cheveux et gorge au vent, s'enivrant de tapage,
Superbe et défiant les meilleurs cavaliers!
Avez-vous vu Théroigne, amante du carnage,
Excitant à l'assaut un peuple sans souliers,
La joue et l'oeil en feu, jouant son personnage,
Et montant, sabre au poing, les royaux escaliers?
Telle la Sisina! Mais la douce guerrière
À l'âme charitable autant que meurtrière;
Son courage, affolé de poudre et de tambours,
Devant les suppliants sait mettre bas les armes,
Et son coeur, ravagé par la flamme, a toujours,
Pour qui s'en montre digne, un réservoir de larmes.
Sisina
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poem by Charles Baudelaire
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My Army, O, My Army!
My Army, O, my army! The time I dreamed of comes!
I want to see your colours; I want to hear your drums!
I heard them in my boyhood when all men’s hearts seemed cold;
I heard them as a Young Man—and I am growing old!
My army, O, my army! The signs are manifold!
My army, O, my army! My army and my Queen!
I used to sing your battle-songs when I was seventeen!
They came to me from ages, they came from far and near;
They came to me from Paris, they came to me from Here!—
They came when I was marching with the Army of the Rear.
My Queen’s dark eyes were flashing (oh, she was younger then!);
My Queen’s Red Cap was redder than the reddest blood of men!
My Queen marched like an Amazon, with anger manifest—
Her dark hair darkly matted from a knifegash in her breast
(For blood will flow where milk will not—her sisters knew the rest).
My legions ne’er were listed, they had no need to be;
My army ne’er was trained in arms—’twas trained in misery!
It took long years to mould it, but war could never drown
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poem by Henry Lawson
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The G o o d b y e
So I go
…..smile all of friend and foe.
.….the time has come to depart
…..be off a must that do us part.
…..do not shed tears do not mourn
…..wasn’t here- came to be torn.
So I go
…..smile all of friend and foe
…..life come, learn, burn, test, go by
…..death values life, gladly say goodbye!
…..love is the cause, life the effect
…..love to love, not to love in fact!
So I go
…..smile all of friend and foe
…..practice love to get the Love
…..things move see down to above.
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poem by Sarwar Chowdhury
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Braggadocio
I am everything
Man, I am everything
I reign more than clouds
I am above every king
I’m a gentleman and a truant
From the streets to the scholars
All tongues, I speak them fluent
It’s better to ask whom I haven’t influenced
A challenge to most, to me is a nuisance
I’ve got more heart than surgeons
Working on Valentine’s
My heroism is a burden
My courage the paradigm
Loose fitting, I’m never slackin’
I’ve got more guts than Patton
On Friday with Jason Voorhees
I’m sharper than Krueger’s knives
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poem by P.R. Prosper
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