Truth poems
/ page 215 of 257 /Monimia. An Ode
© John Logan
In weeds of sorrow wildly 'dight,
Alone beneath the gloom of night,
Monimia went to mourn;
She left a mother's fond alarms;
Ah! never to return!
On Truths
© Sukasah Syahdan
Truths are stranger than fictions,
and there are more of the former
than the latter.
Songs Of The Imprisoned Naiad
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
"WOE! woe is me! the centuries pass away,
The mortal seasons run their ceaseless rounds,
While here I wither for the sunbright day,
Its genial sights and sounds.
Woe! woe is me!
To Whom Words Are Mightier
© Sukasah Syahdan
To whom words are mightier than swords
be wary, for words may merely be as shorter
than swords as our untimely departure
Reminiscence
© Sukasah Syahdan
I am reminiscing you; and the little boy who often stole some change from the left pocket of your pants that would hang behind the door in the front room; his pride in bringing home for Mom, his three brothers and as many sisters, a plastic bagful of bananas or oranges from the money hed stolen; the one afternoon you once asked him about the vanishing money; how he could bring home oleh-oleh for the family; the childish lies and made-up stories; and the relief he felt when you did not pursue the truth hidden in his pinkish heart
Of The Nature Of Things: Book I - Part 06 - Confutation Of Other Philosophers
© Lucretius
And on such grounds it is that those who held
The stuff of things is fire, and out of fire
Reticence
© Peter McArthur
WE may not babble unto alien ears
The truth revealed, nor show to heedless eyes
Longings
© Sukasah Syahdan
I have longed to hit the quill
and hear the faithful tick-tock
of a perishing machine
How I Consulted The Oracle Of The Goldfishes
© James Russell Lowell
What know we of the world immense
Beyond the narrow ring of sense?
Grandmothers Teaching
© Alfred Austin
``Grandmother dear, you do not know; you have lived the old-world life,
Under the twittering eaves of home, sheltered from storm and strife;
Rocking cradles, and covering jams, knitting socks for baby feet,
Or piecing together lavender bags for keeping the linen sweet:
Daughter, wife, and mother in turn, and each with a blameless breast,
Then saying your prayers when the nightfall came, and quietly dropping to rest.
Your Voices Joined Is All It Takes
© Ivan Donn Carswell
They came in masted wooden ships across
an unindentured sea and cast their lot in ocean
swells to chance at history, and Sovereign power
commanded thus they rot in purgatory.
The Three Singers To Young Blood
© George Meredith
Carols nature, counsel men.
Different notes as rook from wren
Hear we when our steps begin,
And the choice is cast within,
Where a robber raven's tale
Urges passion's nightingale.
Today
© Ivan Donn Carswell
The manic fires flared again today, very much the same irrational urges
blazing from the open grate, urgent fervours that belittle and berate,
ardours that depict a gross mistake and derisively debate
hereditary intelligence. While surely lacking relevance,
To let them die peace
© Ivan Donn Carswell
There wasnt room for sympathy,
the epicentre moved too rapidly for that
and even when we knew the anger
of the dispossessed the storm had passed.
On the Bill Which Was Passed in England For Regulating the Slave-Trade
© Helen Maria Williams
The hollow winds of night no more
In wild, unequal cadence pour,
Thinking of an Afterlife
© Ivan Donn Carswell
When was the beginning,
in the fertilising, in the flower,
or was it deeper,
in the earth beneath?
Dreams
© Peter McArthur
IF every thought shall weigh in the award,
And every dream as if fulfilled shall stand,
Ode To Tranquillity
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Tranquillity! thou better name
Than all the family of Fame!
Thou ne'er wilt leave my riper age
To low intrigue, or factious rage;