Tag: kindness wisdom poetry

Categories
PEACE & TRUTH

Famous Poet

@peacewriter51

Americanisation – G. K. Chesterton

Britannia needs no Boulevards,

No spaces wide and gay:

Her march was through the crooked streets Along the narrow way.

Nor looks she where, New York’s seduction,

The Broadway leadeth to destruction.

Britannia needs no Cafes:

If Coffee needs must be,

Its place should be the Coffee-house

Where Johnson growled for Tea;

But who can hear that human mountain

Growl for an ice-cream soda-fountain?

She needs no Russian Theatrey

Mere Father strangles Mother,

In scenes where all the characters And colours kill each other

Her boast is freedom had by halves,

And Britons never shall be Slavs.

But if not hers the Dance of Death,

Great Dostoievsky’s dance,

And if the things most finely French

Are better done in France

Might not Americanisation

Be best applied to its own nation?

Ere every shop shall be a store

And every Trade a Trust . . .

Lo, many men in many lands

Know when their cause is just.

There will be quite a large attendance

When we Declare our Independence.

@peacewriter51
Categories
PEACE & TRUTH

Poetry

@peacewriter51

In fields of vibrant hues, they bloom,
A tapestry of nature’s loom,
With petals soft and fragrant sweet,
They dance to the gentle beat.

Each flower tells a tale untold,
Of love, that’s pure, of hearts that hold,
A beauty that transcends all time,
A steadfast love, so sublime.

The rose, a symbol of desire,
With crimson petals, passion’s fire,
Its thorns may prick, but love remains,
A love that heals, a love that sustains.

The daisy, humble and so pure,
A love that’s innocent, demure,
Its petals are white, like the purest snow,
A love that’s gentle, slow love.

The tulip, bold and full of grace,
A love that blossoms, finds its place,
In vibrant colours, love takes flight,
A bold love, a bright love.

And in the meadows, wild and free,
The wildflowers dance, you and me,
Their love, untamed, like summer breeze,
A wild love, a love that frees.

So let us be like flowers, dear,
With love that blooms, devoid of fear,
Let petals open, hearts unfold,
And let our love be ever bold.

For in the language of the flowers,
Love’s whispered secrets, timeless powers,
May our love bloom, forevermore,
Like flowers in a garden, adore.

@peacewriter51
Categories
PEACE & TRUTH

Caring ~

@peacewriter51

THE NIGHT WE MET

I am not the only traveller

Who has not repaid his debt I’ve been searching for a trail to follow again

Take me back to the night we met

And then I can tell myself

What the hell I’m supposed to do

And then I can tell myself Not to ride along with you

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

When the night was full of terrors

And your eyes were filled with tears

When you had not touched me yet

Oh, take me back to the night we met

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Take me back to the night we met

Categories
PEACE & TRUTH

POETRY ~

@peacewriter51

Unthrift – Ah, wasteful woman, she who may On her sweet self set her price, Knowing men cannot choose but pay, How she has cheapened paradise; How given for nought her priceless gift, How spoiled the bread and spilled the wine, Which, spent with due, respective thrift, Had made brutes men, and men divine.

@peacewriter51
Categories
PEACE & TRUTH

POETRY ~

@peacewriter51

The Married Lover ~ Why, having won her, do I woo? Because her spirit’s vestal grace Provokes me always to pursue, But, spirit-like, eludes embrace; Because her womanhood is such That, as on court-days subjects kiss The Queen’s hand, yet so near a touch Affirms no mean familiarness; Nay, rather marks more fair the height Which can with safety so neglect To dread, as lower ladies might, That grace could meet with disrespect; Thus she with happy favour feeds Allegiance from a love so high That thence no false conceit proceeds Of difference bridged, or state put by; Because although in act and word As lowly as a wife can be, Her manners, when they call me lord, Remind me ’tis by courtesy; Not with her least consent of will, Which would my proud affection hurt, But by the noble style that still Imputes an unattain’d desert; Because her gay and lofty brows, When all is won which hope can ask, Reflect a light of hopeless snows That bright in virgin ether bask; Because, though free of the outer court I am, this Temple keeps its shrine Sacred to Heaven; because, in short, She ‘s not and never can be mine.