Fairfieldsbooks.com » Poetry

ONE

spicer — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 01:30:58 +0000

One song can spark a moment,
         One flower can wake the dream.
        One tree can start a forest,
       One bird can herald spring.

     One smile begins a friendship,
    One handclasp lifts a soul.
    One star can guide a ship at sea,
    One word can frame the goal.

    One vote can change a nation,
    One sunbeam lights a room.
     One candle wipes out darkness,
      One laugh will conquer gloom.

        One step must start each journey,
           One word must start each prayer.
               One hope will raise our spirits,
                  One touch can show you care.

                         One voice can speak with wisdom,
                             One heart can know what’s true.
                                One life can make the difference,
                                   You see, IT’S UP TO YOU!

~ Author Unknown~

Friendship

spicer — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 01:02:23 +0000

Friendship needs no studied phrases,
Polished face, or winning wiles;
Friendship deals no lavish praises,
Friendship dons no surface smiles.
Friendship follows nature’s diction,
Shuns the blandishments of art,
Boldly severs truth from fiction,
Speaks the language of the heart.
Friendship favors no condition,
Scorns a narrow-minded creed,
Lovingly fulfills its mission,
Be it word or be it deed.
Friendship cheers the faint and weary,
Makes the timid spirit brave,
Warns the erring, lights the dreary,
Smooths the passage to the grave.
Friendship-pure, unselfish friendship,
All through life’s allotted span,
Nurtures, strengthens, widens, lengthens,
Man’s relationship with man.

by Anonymous Americas

FAIRFIELDSBOOKS

The Lockless Door

spicer — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 01:13:08 +0000

It went many years,
But at last came a knock,
And I thought of the door
With no lock to lock.

I blew out the light,
I tip-toed the floor,
And raised both hands
In prayer to the door.

But the knock came again
My window was wide;
I climbed on the sill
And descended outside.

Back over the sill
I bade a “Come in”
To whoever the knock
At the door may have been.

So at a knock
I emptied my cage
To hide in the world
And alter with age.

ROBERT FROST

FAIRFIELDSBOOKS.COM

Epitaph On A Tyrant

spicer — Sun, 02 Nov 2008 05:56:35 +0000

Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.
W.H. Auden

FAIRFIELDSBOOKS.COM

Let History Be My Judge

spicer — Tue, 21 Oct 2008 23:31:57 +0000

We made all possible preparations,
Drew up a list of firms,
Constantly revised our calculations
And allotted the farms,
Issued all the orders expedient
In this kind of case:
Most, as was expected, were obedient,
Though there were murmurs, of course;
Chiefly against our exercising
Our old right to abuse:
Even some sort of attempt at rising,
But these were mere boys.
For never serious misgiving
Occurred to anyone,
Since there could be no question of living
If we did not win.
The generally accepted view teaches
That there was no excuse,
Though in the light of recent researches
Many would find the cause
In a not uncommon form of terror;
Others, still more astute,
Point to possibilities of error
At the very start.
As for ourselves there is left remaining
Our honor at least,
And a reasonable chance of retaining
Our faculties to the last.
W.H. Auden

FAIRFIELDSBOOKS.COM

Being Alive

spicer — Thu, 25 Sep 2008 00:31:41 +0000

The only reason for living is being fully alive;

and you can’t be fully alive if you are crushed by secret fear,

and bullied with the threat: Get money, or eat dirt! —

and forced to do a thousand mean things meaner than your nature,

and forced to clutch on to possessions in the hope they’ll make you feel safe,

and forced to watch everyone that comes near you, lest they’ve come to do you down.

Without a bit of common trust in one another, we can’t live.

In the end, we go insane.

It is the penalty of fear and meanness, being meaner than our natures are.

To be alive, you’ve got to feel a generous flow,

and under a competitive system that is impossible, really.

The world is waiting for a new great movement of generosity,

or for a great wave of death.

We must change the system, and make living free to all men,

or we must see men die, and the die ourselves.

D. H. LAWRENCE

FAIRFIELDSBOOKS.COM

Anonymity

spicer — Sat, 13 Sep 2008 01:21:40 +0000

Anonymity is how I feel
In the middle of a crowd that knows me not
I am but an outsider
A queer acquaintance in a group of so-called allies.
Yet, it is through this cloak of anonymity
That I seek protection from the harshness
and coldness that engulfs me
Giving me the courage to spur out my heart and mind
To all my readers,
Do forgive me for my anonymity
For this is my one and only sanctuary
An escapism from the brutal callousness in the world where I reside.
nobody anonymous

IceRocket Tags: Anonymity

Fairfieldsbooks

The World of Silence

spicer — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 01:39:58 +0000

The World of Silence II

Welcome to the world of silence
A mystical place it is,
Full of mysteries that compels all to search and explore.
It is a place for one who seeks solace
Where utmost tranquility and peace of mind can be found.
A sanctuary it is
To escape from the hustle and busy, from all stress and commitments.
Silence is the name of this world.
No one will question your past
No one will question your deeds
No one will intrude upon your personal domestic life.
A place for you to rebounce
To build up your energy and resources silently
To gather your army soundlessly
Till the time ripes
For you to unveil your true self
And your innate strength and capabilities.
In the world of silence…
nobody anonymous

IceRocket Tags: anonymous,poetry,silence

Fairfieldsbooks

No Better Land Than This

spicer — Sun, 10 Aug 2008 00:24:39 +0000

If I knew a better country in this glorious world today
Where a man’s work hours are shorter and he’s drawing bigger pay,
If the Briton or the Frenchman had an easier life than mine,
I’d pack my goods this minute and I’d sail across the brine.
But I notice when an alien wants a land of hope and cheer,
And a future for his children, he comes out and settles here.
Here’s the glorious land of Freedom! Here’s the milk and honey goal
For the peasant out of Russia, for the long-subjected Pole.
It is here the sons of Italy and men of Austria turn
For the comfort of their bodies and the wages they can earn.
And with all that men complain of, and with all that goes amiss,
There’s no happier, better nation on the world’s broad face than this.
So I’m thinking when I listen to the wails of discontent,
And some foreign disbeliever spreads his evil sentiment,
That the breed of hate and envy that is sowing sin and shame
In this glorious land of Freedom should go back from whence it came.
And I hold it is the duty, rich or poor, of every man
Who enjoys this country’s bounty to be all American.