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Database of 251,940 Poems in 228 Topics

Specific contents of 251,940 poems that were written by 17,557 poets & into 228 topics



Listed below are the first 10 - 100 (or more) records of each of the 4 tables.

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id poet_id title content date
11A childs bikeDid anyone tell you how I look like? <br />A birds feathers falling on my head<br />Rollin on, keep moving with the bike<br />A birds scream will wake me up in my bed<br />Please dont look when I pass you by<br />My wheels are getting tired, getting old<br />The tears that left your eyes when you cry<br />They are chilling, so cold<br />The bike cant move on on its own<br />I stepp down and pull it by my side<br />A window let the raindropp fall alone<br />Looking inside for me somewhere to hide<br />Thunder awake and screamd over me<br />No one is left here on the street<br />I have nowhere to go, no one to be<br />I have no sun, no star, no heat<br />The bike cant move on even with me there<br />I have to let go of it and leave it at this place<br />I look up and the raindrops worked with the hair<br />Together they sticked to my face<br /><br />Together they feel alive<br />Together they know<br />Im all alone... <br />6/9/2012
21A Russian storyIf I could stop cry<br />And asking myself why<br />Then mabey I would be alright<br />And if I just didnt say<br />That thing on that day<br />Mabey I wouldn't be here tonight<br /><br />Does it hurt? <br />Yes it does<br />Just gonna take a ride on me like I am a bus<br /><br />Does it hurt? <br />Yes it do<br />I wanna run so far away from you<br /><br />After they took me to their place<br />I just saw that one face<br />I was hoping he would set me free<br />But I made up my mind<br />He's not that kind<br />Why does he doing this to me? <br /><br />Does it hurt? <br />Yes it does<br />Wanna leve them behind me in the memory 'was'<br /><br />Does it hurt? <br />Yes it do<br />Why does this nightmare have to be true? <br /><br />Im tired of being in pain<br />Im screaming <br />Im bleeding<br />Im falling like the rain<br /><br />I didnt ask for your violence<br />I didnt ask for your rape<br />I didnt ask for any of that<br />And still you crushed me like a grape<br /><br />Does it feel good? <br />Does it feel okay? <br />Does it feel good? <br /><br />Do you like it? <br />No let me go<br />Its all so bloody so row<br /><br />Do you like it? <br />No I am screaming<br /><br />Can somone out there hear me..? <br />1/14/2012
31Alice in WonderlandTik Tok Tik Tok<br /><br />Falling in a wolrd of fear<br />Smiling with the cat<br />The Queen of hearts never share<br />So I drank tea with a man in a hat<br /><br />Skratcher, Hunter everybody run<br />Here in a world where there is no such thing as time<br />Slay the bloody one with fun<br />In this world of chess and rhyme<br /><br />Cookie made me grow<br />Drink made me small<br />The poison in the blood flows<br />Drank the tea with Hatter and now I will fall<br /><br />Tik Tok Tik Tok<br /><br />No such thing as time<br /><br />Tik Tok Tik Tok<br /><br />I will loose the head of mine <br />1/14/2012
41Another homeWhat do you mean<br />When you talk about me<br />What have you seen<br />To tell me what to be<br /><br />Well, well, well, well? <br /><br />Who are you<br />To tell me to cry<br />What will you do<br />If I still try<br /><br />Im not made of stone<br />But I know when to stand strong when you are alone<br /><br />I can sense your dreams far away<br />You still want me to stay<br />In this hell you call paradise<br />Stop be a fool<br />I've thrown my dice<br /><br />Who are they<br />To tell me I am wrong<br />What did they do yesterday<br />To stay so strong<br /><br />Well, well? <br /><br />Im not made of stone<br />But I feel that you alredy know<br />That you are not made of stone<br /><br />What will you do? <br />When I find you? <br /><br />She is screaming, screaming<br />Dying, dying<br />My arms are heavy, please<br />Dont come back home.. <br />5/3/2012
51Beauty of two worldsSand belongs to the sun<br />A wind to separate them both<br />Everything that has to be done<br />Every freedom that has been caught<br /><br />Fire belongs to the hand<br />That holds a heart within a cloud<br />Sparkles dissapear where you stand<br />Dreams of red that has just been found<br /><br />Roses belongs to the romance<br />Thorns that bleeds old scars<br />Hold your life, dance a dance<br />Show the red what roses are<br /><br />She belongs to the world<br />A thing that feels on its own<br />What can I use for words<br />To describe we are not alone<br />We belong to two worlds... <br />11/4/2012
61Black DawnEyes in the night watching her<br />Everything is unstable, what a blur<br />Cold breaths and hidden cries<br />Black dawn with immortal eyes<br /><br />A prince of darkness, the mighty night<br />Watched by solders and shining knights<br />In a kingdom he rules in fear<br />And she is getting near<br /><br />Midnight sun was now close<br />She felt the fear till her bones<br />She got closer and didnt give in<br />Though life saw it as a sin<br /><br />She sees a star and she sees a man<br />The prince saw her and ran<br />They kissed even if it was unknown<br />Better with beautiful strangers than all alone<br /><br />She was chosen by his voice<br />She was his only full blooded choice<br />Everything else was still in night<br />Where he still ruled in fright<br /><br />The light shines brightest in the dark<br />Together they left a red, thorny mark<br />No one accepted these lovers two<br />A midnight sun, a black dawn<br />Hated, feared for a love so true <br />12/1/2012
71Blind wayMy mind is darker than yesterday<br />Everything is black and Im not okey<br />Im searching for you here, right now<br />I will find my home somehow<br />A light that dosnt know wehre to shine<br />Prettier and stronger than any divine<br />Its shining on my destiny<br />Please let me be<br />I cant help your raven eyes<br />I cant go against your lies<br />You have only yourself to blame<br />You lost this game<br />My mind is darker than before<br />I will go blind for sure<br />But atleast I belive in the light<br />Shining so bright...<br /><br />Darker than you and me<br />Darker than everything I see<br />You have to let go of it all<br />Or you will fall<br />I have moved on and so should you<br />Thats really what you have to do<br />And I still have to live with those mistakes<br />But Ill do what it takes<br />We are not like them you see<br />Your olny friend is me<br />So please accept the light you fool<br />Throw away your tools<br />I will live with them soon<br />I will leave the dark, the moon<br />Follow me insteed of cry<br />Cry till you die.... <br />5/3/2012
81Bloody HandsFearless cries screaming out<br />Sooner or later it will shout<br />For every life left on earth<br />To forget their birth<br />Pain is not for fun you know<br />You are in this all alone<br />What if the mosters are real<br />They show you how you feel<br />Sooner or later my heart does break<br />For all this stupid mistake<br />You think that you know my scars<br />Im not what you are<br /><br />Crying fearless nights<br />Bloody, bloody hand and I feel a fright<br />You think that Im done<br />Bloody<br />Bloody <br />Bloody nights and fear<br /><br />I dont dare<br /><br />Lifeless is my thoughts<br />Lifeless...<br />Open up <br />Close in<br />Take a breath<br />And Im trying....<br /><br />Crying fearless nights<br />Bloody<br />Bloody<br />Bloody minds forever... <br />6/9/2012
91BulliedHoney save me now<br />Before I die<br />Run faster<br />Hit harder<br />Dont waste your time<br />Because soon its all gone<br /><br />I will always wonder why<br />Think harder <br />Speak lauder<br />Give it a shot, give it a try<br />Because soon I'll be gone<br /><br />They say it's a misunderstanding<br />Cry slowly<br />Tell faster<br />Never fall always landing<br />Because soon they will be gone<br /><br />But do you know what they are doing with me? <br />Hitting me hard enough<br />Make me run but to slowly<br />Make me fear of life<br />That my friends is the feeling of being bullied... <br />1/14/2012
101CancerWatching those people passing me by<br />No one cares about me<br />The are conviced in there own lie<br />No one wants to be here to see<br />As the snow turns my skin pale<br />As the ashes of my tears<br />I feel like Im on sale<br />No one wants me no one cares<br /><br />Unlike you...<br />I have to breathe one more time<br />Unlike you...<br />I have to scream out not mime<br />Unlike you...<br />I cant stop the red<br />Unlike you...<br />I will have to face that I might be dead<br /><br />The distance between ous is small<br />But we pretend that there is something there<br />You cant just rise and show them all<br />No one wants me no one cares<br />I live in my space<br />No one need to save me after all<br />I have lost all my grace<br />Soon like the snow I will fall<br /><br />Unlike me...<br />You will live<br />Unlike me...<br />You will recive<br />Unlike me..<br />You will not be in pain<br />Unlike you...<br />I will never escape from this chains<br /><br />Life is killing ous all<br />You just have to find that place<br />Life will make you dropp the ball<br />Lost in time and space<br />Make yourself belive in you<br />Breathe as you will never<br />No one needs to know the truth<br />I will hunt my body for ever<br /><br />Unlike you all...<br />I cant live anymore<br />Unlike me...<br />You can breathe for sure<br />Unlike you all...<br />I feel the snow killing me<br />Unlike me...<br />You dont have to die you see? <br />1/14/2012
111ClaustrophobiaTapping the ceeling<br />My fingers burns<br />I have this feeling<br />That Im not heard<br />Im touching the walls<br />And my fingers hurt<br />Whats rising falls<br />In our pile of dirt<br />My screaming is unheard<br />And I feel the pain<br />Clear wings of a bird<br />Flying above me in the rain<br />My body is screaming<br />I've fallen so deep<br />Everythings dying<br />I dont want to sleep<br /><br />I hit all the sides <br />Im trying to escape<br />I hit all the lies, all the cries, all the smiles that hides<br />With me...<br /><br />Im stuck here forever<br />I dont want to live<br />I wish that I never<br />Took, and took insteed of give<br />My fingers are bleeding<br />From a faild escape to this<br />For all this feeling<br />A darkness's touch like a kiss<br />My fingers are numb<br />I cant go on my screams<br />I cant even move a thumb<br />Im lost in my dreams<br /><br />Im lying here alone<br />Im buried alive<br />Im tired of feeling, tired of greeving, preying to be cold as stone<br />Please... <br />4/4/2012
121Cross the yardYou can cry for every pain he gave<br />You can try to be better and behave<br />And even if you smile outside<br />You just want to hide<br /><br />Your lips are shaking and feels shy<br />To tell yourself to just cry<br />And even if you cried I'd know<br />You just want to be alone<br /><br />Your eyes are serching for a sign<br />Something to calm down your mind<br />And even if your dreams where real<br />You just want to feel<br /><br />You can forget about all the pain<br />You can wash it all away<br />And make ous stay<br /><br />All our reasons of this life<br />Making me dream of this nightmare<br />So I am scared and I feel you<br />You are scared and you dont dare<br />Feel the fear<br />Feel the pain<br />And scream in vain<br /><br />You can let yourself be gone<br />But you know you got to go on<br />Even if you feel the pain<br />You have to se what you gain<br /><br />You have to smile inside<br />You cant go on and hide<br />Even if it is hard<br />You have to cross the yard<br /><br />And if you feel that its okay<br />You know you'll fight day after day<br />Even if you stand alone<br />Dont turn into stone... <br />4/19/2012
131DemiseCalling for a soul that can hear my scream<br />Wanting the dark side of the sun out of my dreams<br />Mabey Im created for this dark pain<br />I wish I could let it be washed out in the rain<br />Let it be a smile in my sisters face<br />Let them keep all the happiness and grace<br />I will be counting on the life they recive<br />I wish that I could stop take and starting to give<br />Give a home, a family, food on a plate<br />Somone to hug after school by the gate<br />To eat, play and laugh with their own tears<br />Where no one goes away or dissapears<br />Give them hope, faith and a new me<br />Somone to be with them, the one I have to be<br /><br />All day<br />All night<br />I will fight for your right<br />Still waiting for the souls to come<br /><br />All night<br />All day<br />I will listen to what you have to say<br />Still waiting for the souls to come<br /><br />Wait, Wait<br />Is there somone at the gate<br />Waiting for the children to arrive<br /><br />Wait, Wait<br />Have you erased all hate<br />So they can feel alive<br /><br />Wait<br />All day<br />Make sure they are all okay<br />Still wondering if they can go on<br /><br />Wait<br />All night<br />Make sure that they dont get a fright<br />Still hoping they wont cry when Im gone<br /><br />When Im gone<br /><br />When Im gone<br /><br />When Im gone<br /><br />Im gone... <br />2/4/2012
141Destined to be aloneI couldnt tell you, you know<br />Those empty eyes where destined <br />To forever and ever be alone<br /><br />But why didnt Ï make it<br />Its all my fault I lied to you<br />Your love just couldent fit<br />In my heart or my head too<br /><br />Im sorry<br />Im so sorry<br />But now its too late..<br /><br />Your cold, black heart pumped<br />So much blood, and I passed out<br />Your empty eyes didnt know how to tell me for sure<br />That you didnt trust me anymore..<br /><br />Roses died along with you<br />Your white sheets turned to red<br />I just waited cause I knew that soon<br />The neighbours will tell me that you really, really where dead<br /><br />Im sorry <br />Im so sorry<br /><br />Your cold, black heart pumped<br />So much blood, and I passed out<br />Your empty eyes didnt know how to tell me for sure<br />That you didnt love me anymore..<br /><br />And I tried so hard<br />But no one listen, no one cared<br />And now when your gone they are here<br />The cry their fake tears and lie<br />Because now they want ous to think that they cared...<br /><br />Your mom commed in<br />I was holding the knife, kid<br />I was sitting there with a grin<br />Because I killed you before the cancer did <br />1/14/2012
151Dont wanna be a Stranger to youI dont wanna be a stranger<br />I dont wanna be that far<br />I dont wanna be drag into the danger<br />I dont wanna my life turns bizarre<br /><br />I dont wanna be forgotten <br />I dont wanna be left behind<br />I dont wanna play hide and seek, count to ten<br />I dont wanna se you run away if you change your mind<br /><br />I dont wanna cry all day<br />I dont wanna cry all night<br />I dont wanna sleep, just going to say<br />I wont rest till I win this fight <br />1/14/2012
161Earths WordsWhy should I run? <br />When all the paths lead to him<br />Why should I have fun? <br />When broken its all I've ever been<br /><br />Sense the holy spirit in me<br />Sense the neverending I see<br />Follow me in the light<br />Where you will die before your first sight<br />Sense the pain I feel<br />I want to be real<br />Please come and save me soon<br />Save me today, this afternoon<br /><br />Why should I stay? <br />When all you do is reaping me<br />Why should I go away? <br />I know that I could never be<br /><br />Sense my broken dreams<br />Try to make them whole<br />Sense the dust in my screams<br />Try to get up from this dark hole<br />Sense the sorrow in the air<br />Follow me in the woods<br />Sense the world while your here<br />Where there is no bad moods<br /><br />Why should we run? <br />Why should we share? <br />We didn't won<br />We didn't care<br /><br />Sense my pain you created so bad<br />You destroyed me your home<br />I gave you everything I had<br />My earth, my water even rom<br />Sense everything you have done<br />Are you proud of yourself? <br />I didn't do anything you where the one<br />And now its time to kill myself <br />1/14/2012
171FairytaleA summer breeze hit my face<br />And I looked at the oceans heart<br />I forgot the world, time and space<br />And watched the worlds own art<br /><br />Cold is the wind and blowing<br />A song that dosnt come to an end<br />And I cant help but thinking<br />What happend? What happend? <br /><br />Waves hit the cliffs and the color blue<br />So beautiful and calm, pretty<br />Pretty dear blue I can see you<br />Dont be tricky, what a pity<br /><br />Dance in the dust of sand<br />And fire, warm and touch<br />The life who burns your hand<br />Its so much, so much<br /><br />Moving to feild where the flowers fly<br />Over me in a wind so cold<br />Fire of flowers are above me in the sky<br />They are so old, so old<br /><br />In my field they fly around me<br />Fireflies do you hear my voice<br />They are all that I want to be<br />My will and my choice<br /><br />While the flowers broke down<br />I borke them with one look<br />Now they hit the ground<br />A farirytale from my own book <br />5/1/2012
181Father DeathWhere did you go? <br />When all the hope dissapeard<br />I didnt know you where that low<br />You watch me drown in my on tears<br />I can hope and wait<br />That it will all be ok<br />You where a little bit too late<br />And now its a new day<br /><br />The memories inside of me<br />Cold, lifless and suffering<br />You knew I couldnt be<br />So you pushed me to breathing<br /><br />The hate inside of you<br />Shining with glory and prime<br />You wont be true<br />I will punish you for your crime<br /><br />Where did you run? <br />When I was left all alone<br />You really could break all the fun<br />You tried to kill me all along<br />I can only wait and hope<br />That it will all be good<br />I will stick to Lifes rope<br />And escape from your bad mood<br /><br />The dreams inside of me<br />Dark, faith and life<br />God please give me strenght, an army<br />That will help me be alive<br /><br />The envy inside of you<br />Taking over everything<br />You wont be true<br />You dont want to be true<br />Everything was just a acting<br /><br />Scream <br /><br />Dream<br /><br />Be me... <br />1/14/2012
191Final breathsCome home, running fast<br />Standing alone, standing last<br />Hands of ashes, eyes of blood<br />Look around what you have done<br /><br />Scars getting deeper<br />Lifes getting cheaper<br />Minds getting darker<br />Hands getting dirtier<br /><br />Come home, to my trap<br />Fall down in to the gap<br />Seeing hearts in their perfection<br />Looking back in pale reflection<br /><br />So streets are down<br />The cities drowned<br />The hearts sold out<br />And the soul stopped the shouts... <br />12/2/2012
201Floor Of GlassStaring up and smiling<br />Everything is okay<br />I dont drag them falling<br />I could be here all day<br />Moving on Im still here<br />And looking up for you<br />I feel alone drowned in white fear<br />But lets just face it, its true<br />'They are all stepping on you'<br /><br />'You smile and let them run so fast<br />Your hand its bleeding from the scar<br />You will always be alone standing last<br />Because everybody will show what they are<br />Monsters under your bed<br />Dont let them look down on you<br />Running red, running red, running red<br />Dont let them be up in the blue<br />They are all stepping on you'<br /><br />Staring up and crying<br />Everything is broken<br />I am the only one falling<br />I am so frozen<br />Now when they are gone<br />There is only footprints<br />Marks on my hands, the scar bleeds on<br />Cold and fresh, take the hint<br /><br />They are all stepping on me...<br /><br />I wouldnt change a thing about it...<br /><br />I am to week... <br />8/27/2012
211FragileThis feeling is burning<br />My heart, its hurting<br />Help me, heal me<br />Let me<br /><br />This light is shining<br />My eyes, they are melting<br />Help me, heal me<br />I cant see<br /><br />This darkness is confused<br />My mind feels so used<br />Help me, heal me<br />Im not free<br /><br />This pain is crying<br />My love is dying<br />Help me, heal me<br />Let me be<br /><br />This question is waiting<br />My life is hating<br />Help me, heal me<br />Help me <br /><br />Please... <br />5/1/2012
221Free, pure and trueMy heart<br />Loving you with all the strentght I have left<br />A new start <br />That shows the world that I dont regret<br /><br />This is my life <br />In my world, In my time<br />This is my day<br />In this glore, In this prime<br /><br />Taking peoples secrets<br />Making them die for you<br />Making people remember you but forget<br />Forget the true<br /><br />Taking peoples lies<br />Making them be mad<br />Making people remember your eyes<br />But they will still be sad<br /><br />My dreams<br />Dreaming every night and every day<br />Fading screams<br />Tell the world what you want to say<br /><br />This is my heart<br />In my room, In my space<br />This is my voice<br />In those eyes, In this face<br /><br />Taking peoples memories<br />Making them move<br />Making people remember your deadly kiss<br />What are you trying to prove? <br /><br />Taking peoples faith<br />Making them all cry<br />Making people remebmer your wraith<br />Please just tell me why? <br /><br />My soul<br /><br />My pain<br /><br />My goal<br /><br />My brian<br /><br />This is my way<br />This is my freedom<br />This is my fray<br />This is my sum<br /><br />This is me<br /><br />This is who I wanna be...<br /><br />This is what Ive become...<br /><br />And I know that I am the one...<br /><br />I am free<br /><br />I can finnaly see<br /><br />This is me <br />1/14/2012
231From childrens eyesSilly little boy <br />Stop your tiny tears<br />Dont you see that no one in this room<br />Really cares..<br /><br />Silly little girl<br />Stop your enoying scream<br />Dont you see that no one in this world belives<br />In your dremas...<br /><br />Cold is one of the words<br />That we describe our world<br />Warm isnt here<br />Not even near<br />Well thats just what I heard<br /><br />Silly little boy<br />Stop your irritating cry<br />Dont you see that no one in this world<br />Asks why<br /><br />Silly little girl<br />Stop your stupid question<br />Dont you see that no one in this room augrees<br />With your obssesion<br /><br />Death is not to understand<br />In no one of our lands<br />No one cares<br />Just live in fear<br />Well thats before you get a helping hand<br /><br />Stop<br />Silly boy<br />Stop<br />Little girl<br />Stop<br />Little boy<br />Silly girl<br />Thats not a toy<br />Thats our world...<br /><br />'Stupid grown ups<br />We had enough<br />Our dreams and tears and screams and questions<br />Seems to take you rough<br /><br />Stupid grown ups<br />Cant stop run<br />Dont you see that all we need in this room<br />Is to have fun<br /><br />The whole world is a playground, but I just get started..<br /><br />Stupid grown ups<br />Dont feel anger anymore<br />Dont you see that everybody in this world<br />Should laugh some more<br /><br />Stupid grown ups<br />Well you see<br />Cant pretend that no more just realize<br />Everybody should smile like we' <br />1/14/2012
241God hear my prayers'God do you hear me? <br />Please forgive me<br />I have sinned<br />Please don’t hate me..'<br /><br />The one who knows our pain<br />The one who scratches your way<br />The one who created rain<br />The one who made the devil go away<br /><br />Please don’t hate me<br />I’m so alone<br />Please cant you see? <br />I cant handle it on my own<br /><br />Maybe I will smile <br />If Gods willing, If Gods willing...<br /><br />The light of the dark<br />The one who we live for<br />Waiting to come to heavens park<br />Like we did once before<br /><br />Please God give me the strength<br />Give me some power in length<br /><br />Please God give me the apple<br />Give me something to kill me<br /><br />No one needs to know our secrets<br />No one needs to hear our screams<br />No one needs to know our regrets<br />And no one need to see our dreams<br /><br />God is breathing my pain<br />God is taking my heart<br /><br />God save me please<br /><br />Are you even there? <br />Do you really exist? <br /><br />Nisi credideritis.... <br />1/14/2012
251GoddessShe was so great<br />So loved, so feared<br />She had hope and faith<br />And she was never scared<br />Her aura was strong<br />She was the most beautiful<br />She was allways right, never wrong<br />She had the cleanest soul<br /><br />Even the Goddess can bleed<br /><br />So she saved her people<br />She was happy and mad<br />She never had a husband, allways single<br />But that didnt make her sad<br />She rose her hands<br />She was so powerfull<br />She saved the lands<br />She was allways carefull<br /><br />Even the Goddess can smile <br />1/14/2012
261GoodbyeIf somone out there could hear me<br />I wonder then why am I quiet<br />If somone could tell me where to be<br />When the Destiny starts to bet<br />Calling for somone out there<br />Hoping they will find a way<br />A way to come near<br />So I dont feel fear<br /><br />If someone out there could hear me<br />I wonder where they are right now<br />If somone just could set me free<br />Save us all from Death somehow<br />If someone out there could find me<br />When they all scream out loud<br />If someone just could make me see<br />Breaking the bound<br />Of what we found<br /><br />I found a heart<br />New as the star<br />Close your eyes one more time for this life<br /><br />If someone out there could hear me<br />I wonder why no one's digging my grave<br />Make me be, set me free, make me see<br />I'll try, but I'm not that brave<br />If somone out there could hear me<br />Then I dont need to shut up<br />Save me from a sworn of bees<br />Make me wake up<br />Fill the bloody cup<br /><br />If someone out there just could try<br />Try again try so hard<br />Im not going to cry<br />I wonder if someone see's my yard<br />If someone out there could belive<br />Find me soon Im dying tomorrow<br />Lifes gift I couldnt recive<br />Burn all the sorrow<br />No one should follow<br /><br />I found a soul<br />Old as the sun<br />Close your eyes one last thime for this life <br />1/14/2012
271Growing OldIm trying to survive<br />From a pain so deep<br />How many times in my life<br />Ive been crying myself to sleep<br />My dreamworld is broken<br />My heart bleeds new scars<br />I feel that Im frozen<br />I dont know who you are<br /><br />Im growing cold<br />No matter what you do<br />Im growing old<br />Even without you<br />The ocean is calling<br />I am falling<br />I will drown alone<br />I will die on my own<br /><br />Im growing old<br />Im getting tired<br />To be that bold<br />To drain out my desire<br />Burning like fire <br />3/29/2012
281GrudgeLocked up and the door is old<br />Somehow it turned black<br />This room is now so cold<br />That my breath is stepping back<br />The walls are empty <br />And the roof is dusty<br />What is happening to me<br />Who is she<br />Sitting on on the floor across the room<br />I cant see her eyes<br />She has also received a doom<br />That cant be hidden with imaginary lies<br />Veins in blue I see<br />She is shaking and crying<br />She is crazy just like me<br />She will now hear my praying<br /><br />I pray to her<br />I pray to mom<br />I pray and pray and pray<br />Answer me...<br /><br />Why cant I go home<br />A sacrifice who is all alone<br />No one knows what syndrome<br />Made me cry <br />But I know...<br />I will die<br /><br />Just like me<br />Just like you<br />Help, help<br />Help me <br /><br />Why cant I go back<br />I don't wanna stay<br />Just put me home again<br />And I will be on my way<br /><br />Why<br />Why<br />Why sacrifice a child<br /><br />Why<br />Why<br />Why hurt and burn a child<br /><br />She is crawling closer now, Scratching on the wall somehow, Nails are sharper than any blade, Blood will drip from every vain<br /><br />Closer, closer<br />She is here<br /><br />Closer, closer<br />Do you dare.... <br />6/9/2012
291HaloParadise is my own dream<br />I cant see if its real<br />Paradise absorbe my scream<br />Dont let me see how I feel<br /><br />Halo<br /><br />Shining gold<br />No one's ever tell you about the cold<br /><br />Halo<br /><br />Shining above me<br />No one told you if you were free<br /><br />Paradise came to my door<br />I answeard with a smile<br />Paradise in all his glore<br />He is in his own hide<br />Paradise play your game<br />No one can tell you if its true<br />Paradise screams your name<br />Did you know that it wants you<br /><br />Halo<br /><br />Always good<br />No one needs to taste the bad mood<br /><br />Halo<br /><br />Always brave<br />So sad that no one visits my grave<br /><br />Halo<br /><br />Im not God<br />Im something else, I am odd<br /><br />Halo<br /><br />Look at me<br />God thank you set me free<br /><br />Halo... <br />1/14/2012
301Hans and GretaShe lives alone and she is mad<br />She cant smile and she cant prey<br />She wants you to be sad<br />Till the end of this day<br />She is hungry and she wants food<br />She will get it very soon<br />She now feels in a better mood<br />But you better hide before the fullmoon<br /><br />Drip, drop, drip, drop<br />A trail to find your way home<br />Drip, drip<br />With a even gap<br />Drop, drop<br />You will fall in her trap<br /><br />She see's that your lost<br />And offers you food and rome<br />She is a very good host<br />Makes sure you dont want to go home<br />When you fall asleep in her bed<br />She will watch you sleep<br />She now feels so dead<br />If she dont find anyone to reap<br /><br />Drip, drop, drip, drop<br />You think that you are safe<br />Drip, drip<br />You will die<br />Drop, drop<br />No one can hear you cry<br /><br />You run as she hunts you<br />A brother and a sister alone<br />You know what she will do<br />The children know, they know<br />She gets the brother and one touch<br />She eats his flesh somehow<br />The sisters pain burned so much<br />She will go for the sister now<br /><br />Drip, drop. drip, drop<br />The crows has now eaten your trail<br />Drip, drip<br />In a night so black<br />Drop, drop<br />You're not going back... <br />4/10/2012
311Haunted HouseThree knocks on the door<br />As they feelt the fear<br />They all crawled on the floor<br />No one, no one dares<br /><br />Every house is locked up tight<br />No one can fly away<br />You will se the shadows fight<br />For you to just stay<br /><br />Can you hear the steps outside<br />Closer, closer, come closer<br />Where will you run and hide<br />Will you face it sober? <br /><br />Two knocks on the door again<br />Scream and hide for it now<br />You will be here till the end<br />They will get inside somehow<br /><br />Locked up tight and you try<br />Escape from the house of mine<br />Will you end up scarred and cry<br />This answears take its time<br /><br />One more knock, feel the fear<br />Feel the fear of a painful death<br />Look it in the eyes if you dare<br />Open up and take your last breath...<br /><br />Locked up tight<br />Nowhere to go<br />Stayed up all night<br />A fear that grows<br />Locked up tight<br />Nowhere to go<br />Stayed up all night<br />A fear that grows so.... <br />6/9/2012
321HelloHello<br /><br />Smiles never fades away<br /><br />Hello<br /><br />Smiles always stays on their way<br /><br />Hello<br /><br />Youll never breathe again<br /><br />Youll never love again...<br /><br />So what if I cry? <br />What if I fall? <br />What if I stop try? <br />What if I hit the wall? <br /><br />Hello! <br />She dosnt care at all..<br />Hello! <br />She dosnt want to save me after all...<br /><br />Hello<br /><br />Tears never dissapear<br /><br />Hello<br /><br />Tears always show that we care<br /><br />Hello<br /><br />Youll never see me again<br /><br />Youll never hug me again..<br /><br />So try to understand! <br />I will never be<br />She dosent give me her helping hand<br />It will never be ous just me! <br /><br />Just me! <br />Hello! <br />Hello! <br />Do you hear me! <br />Hello! <br /><br />Im tired of screaming...<br />Im tired of crying...<br />Im tired of breathing...<br />And Im tired of dying! <br /><br />Hello...<br /><br />Hello, hello <br />Can you hear me? <br />I am screaming! <br /><br />Hello, hello<br /><br />I am screaming <br />1/14/2012
331Hide the shame in truth and liesI have this scar<br />Its burning my skin<br />Its showing who we really are<br />With an innocent grin<br />The fire is my destiny<br />Death is my soulmate<br />Life is who I wanna be<br />But it fills my darkness with hate<br /><br />The cementery of the pain<br />Is allways empty<br />Life allways gain<br />On the way you look at me<br />Darkness of the sun<br />Shining with a pitch of black<br />Killing al the fun<br />The children have no choice, no turning back<br /><br />Play on the sorrow moon<br />Like a star you will fall<br />Life will kill you soon<br />And death save you from it all<br />Snow white eyes<br />Never cry<br />Raven dark lies<br />Just asking you why<br /><br />Red lips like blood<br />Feeding on your happyness<br />Its all shame, a dud<br />Growing from your lonliness<br />The flower on the grave<br />Hate is where Life grows<br />The love you can save<br />Is hidden somwhere only God knows<br /><br />Running from my life<br />Meating the end of my shame<br />Dont wanna be Lifes wife<br />It will never be the same<br />Ill miss the sun<br />Kissing me goodnight<br />Ill try to run<br />But I might loose this fight<br /><br />The reflektion in the glass<br />Is the truth of the world<br />Soon I will pass<br />Dont trust the other sides word<br />The strong eyes in the mirror<br />Knowing all of ous<br />Hunting ous for ever<br />Without any big cause<br /><br />The fear inside of you<br />Is my food, is my water<br />Live and die with this terrible true<br />Because it wont get better<br />From the eyes of the dead one<br />I will tell you the real truth<br />You wont be alone though you dont won<br />Because Ill be dead with you too <br />1/14/2012
341HosstessFor all the pain you made me feel<br />For all the time i though it was real<br />I cant do this on my own<br />I cant bare this all alone<br />For every tear that left my eyes<br />Million tears just like your million lies<br />Raven dark is not dark enough<br />Noir black will take me rough<br /><br />I am so scared<br />So alone so lost<br />Dont want to be raped<br />So alone with my soul <br />What a horrible host<br /><br />For all my screams that fade away<br />For all my scratches who came on the way<br />For all the stupid scars<br />For all the stupid accidents in cars<br />People killing people bleeding<br />No one cares no ones needing<br />Why do I even pretend<br />Soon I will fall I will be dead<br /><br />I am so damn alone<br />So damaged so so lost<br />Down want to be it all along<br />So alone with this broken soul<br />What a terrible host<br /><br />' I can make you happy.... Just let me stay<br />Let me stay with you.' <br />1/14/2012
351HostageI am begging you to leave me today<br />Im tired of crying and feel this way<br />I dont think love can save ous after all<br />I just beg you to let it go, let it fall<br /><br />Hit me as hard as you can I wont get hurt<br />Change me as much as you want I wont get your curse<br />Lie as much as you want I wont belive you<br />Scream as much as you can I wont belive its true<br /><br />I am begging you please let me go<br />I dont want to scream any more<br />I know hate is grown deep in our eyes<br />I know that all your words was lies<br /><br />Scratch me as much as you want I wont bleed<br />Hate me as much as you can, your love I dont need<br />Rape me as much as you want I wont be drowned<br />Push me down as hard as you can I wont look down<br /><br />I am begging you dont kill me now<br />I know that I will be saved soon somehow<br />I know that my love is burning under my skin<br />Turned to hate with a lovley, stupid grin<br /><br />Hurt me as much as you can I wont cry<br />Make me try to kill them all I wont try<br />Stabb me as hard as you can I wont scream<br />Hold me captured as long as you can I wont give up my dream <br />1/14/2012
361How to love a MonsterOh why do we fight? <br />Just because you like him? <br />Its the same every night<br />Like its always been<br />Oh why love that monster? <br />When all he's ever done is killing<br />Why do you even bother<br />To make me able and willing<br /><br />He's no good my friend<br />His people will slay us again<br />Even if he's not here anymore<br />His people will hate us for sure<br /><br />Oh don't you know? <br />His people almost slayed me<br />That silly and row<br />We will never be free<br />Your my friend I do care<br />But he hates don't adore<br />I cant do this I don't bare<br />But I cry because of him for sure<br /><br />He's not even human<br />He almost destroyed us all<br />Cant you see man? <br />With him we will fall<br /><br />He has dropped the ball<br /><br />Crazy<br /><br />Crazy<br /><br />Hate him with my whole heart<br /><br />Crazy<br /><br />Crazy<br /><br />Oh God get them back to the start<br /><br />Crazy<br /><br />Yeah it all<br /><br />They will die like he did<br /><br />Crazy<br /><br />Hitler don't fool us kids <br />1/14/2012
371Hundred timesIm waking up<br />I dont wanna go to school<br />But mom says your growing up<br />You have to<br /><br />Or your future will fade<br />Lost in the shadows of your own heart<br />A way that life by himself made<br />You dont get a new chance, a start<br /><br />Like everybody else...<br />I learn to live with it<br /><br />Hundred times Im gonna fail<br />Hundred times I'll brake my fairytale<br />For hundred time I'll never learn lifes dance<br /><br />Hundred times Im gonna fall<br />Hundred times, I cant caount them all<br />I'll give anything for just one more chance<br /><br />Losing control over my soul<br />I hate everybody who tries to love me<br />They are trying but I cant, its too cold<br />My heart has growing ice you see<br /><br />Unlike everybody else<br />Im dying inside...<br /><br />Hundred times I miss the touch<br />Hundred times and its too much<br />For hundred times I wont have the romance<br /><br />Hundred times when I've been loved<br />Hundred times I've been scared to bound<br />But now Its too late for a new chance <br />1/14/2012
381Immortal DawnSelfcontrol and a dissaperance<br />Everything makes perfet sense<br />They are mixing with sad genes<br />They think thats the keys<br /><br />A creature who controls a fire<br />The one who can satisfy your deepest desire<br />She is always a she ofcourse<br />Thats her blood, her curse<br /><br />Another creature is shifting shape<br />Its bitten from a animals own rape<br />Its a good protector and it wont lose<br />An firend or an enemy, you chose<br /><br />This creature is a dangerous one<br />It will judge you for what you have done<br />Its so beautiful, so sharp, so pure<br />But it needs your blood for sure<br /><br />This one has been bitten within the moon<br />It will be the same as the bitter soon<br />And it cant control its anger anymore<br />When the moons out, his power you will adore<br /><br />This one is a little bit sad<br />Its dead and it cant move on to bad<br />Its haunting the lovers and it cant cry<br />But they can tell you how they died<br /><br />So an sad world, to bad, to bad<br />What can I do to the monsters so sad<br />You can se them everywhere, in the house, on the lawn<br />Welome to their world, an immortal dawn <br />7/9/2012
391InsanityIf only souls could understand<br />Why we kill our heart<br />Why a mother let go's of the childs hand<br />Its only a beggining a start<br />You can wish for everthing you want<br />But is that really what you need<br />Slefishness is a very good at hunt<br />And it will find you a new way to bleed<br />Ashes of your skin will not remain<br />Its killing you breath for breath<br />You will feel so much pain<br />Before you finally meet death<br /><br />Drown deeper deeper down<br />Drown, drown, drown<br />Dont you dare to rise<br />Im tired of being nice<br /><br />From a good man to turn<br />Now he wont be nice<br />The darkness in him burns<br />Cant even be earesed with ice<br />He slays everthing in his way<br />You will die for his mistake<br />Just let him slay till the day<br />Where nothing will save his break<br />He will prey for merci<br />A lunatic worse than me<br />He has no longer eyes to see<br />What he becomes is what Im supposed to be<br /><br />Drown deeper deeper down<br />Drown, drown, drown<br />Dont you dare to look up<br />Dont yo dare to wake up<br /><br />Im more violent than I though<br />Im dragging him down<br />Like he hasnt had enough<br />Im going to make him drown<br />If he tries to breathe again<br />I will lose my mind<br />He will die alone with no friends<br />I will lose my mind<br />He cant be saved anymore<br />I will lose my mind<br />With him I lost my glore<br />And I lost my mind<br /><br />Drown deeper deeper down<br />Drown with me, drown<br />Dont dare to rise from the pain<br />Be with me, lost and insane <br />2/22/2012
401InsomniaThe waves hit the cliff in the dust<br />The stones fell deeper down to the black<br />Like they where greeving for the ocean in its own lust<br />They new when they fell that there was no truning back<br />The heavens where darker than our souls eyes<br />The wind was screaming and choked it owns cries<br />The flash lit up the oceans darkest heart<br />Whitout its black chains it will fall apart<br />Swollow everything that comes in its way<br />Wishing that the thunder will fade away<br />The black bird will fly high above the sky<br />From the ravens to the crows who might wonder why<br />Why the two armed, two leged creatuer destroys<br />Using the other ones like toys<br />No one can heal in the toxic rain<br />All thats left in the air is pain<br />Its broken, everything that you can touch<br />Its snowhite fear thats grows so much<br />Like the storm the stars will cry its screams<br />Soon it will dissapear, the only memory of life left will be dark dreams <br />2/9/2012
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1A Dark Lifetime ...90
2Fogel, Aaron5(1947 - / New York City, New York)Aaron Fogel was born and raised in New York City. He graduated from Columbia and Cambridge Universities, and holds a Ph.D. from Columbia. Fogel currently occupies a space on the Boston University faculty, a position he has held since 1978. He lives with his wife Barbara and his son Adam in Cambridge, MA. Works Aaron Fogel’s books include Chain Hearings (poems) and Coercion to Speak: Conrad’s Poetics of Dialogue (criticism). Backdoor Books will soon publish his chapbook, Ornery Language Philosophy. His poems have appeared in such places as The Best American Poetry, Boulevard, AGNI, and Slate. Awards 2001: Kahn Award for The Printer's Error 1987-88: Guggenheim Fellow 1967-69: Kellett FellowshipAaron Fogel's Published Books:The Printer's Error (The Miami University Press Poetry Series - January 01, 2001) Coercion to Speak: Conrad's Poetics of Dialogue (August 01, 1985) Chain Hearings (1976) Ornery Language Philosophy (Upcoming)
3Aaron Lynn48(7/13/94 / Evansville IN)My name is Aaron Lynn, I am 18 years old and poetry is my greatest passion. Common themes in my poetry: Emotional distress, horror, social/political criticism. My greatest influences are mainly Poe and Dickinson. They both have a very natural sense of rhythm which I admire. I'm also heavily influenced by Michael Gira for his bizarre and abstract themes. My goal as a poet is to provoke thought and touch hearts.Aaron Lynn's Published Books:My poem 'Minor Breathing' appeared in The 2012 Student Writers of Indiana Anthology.
4Abbigael Lee1My name is Abbigael. I am 15 years old. I have been in foster care almost my whole life. I don't have the best parents. My teachers are always shocked at how well I write. I write peoms about my life and feelings. I hope people who have ever or do feel the way I feel, will know they are not alone.When I let people read them, they say I should publish them. This is me doing that...Kinda. Writing is what I do best, well besides reading. I hope that people won't judge me.
5Abdul Haye Amin5(Sylhet, Bangladesh.)Hello every one at Poems and visitors! Today I decided to take Journey path into using Poems I believe the site will excite and passionate in Language of Literature in poetry. I like the website. I would like to introduce myself! I am Abdul Haye, my pseudonym, nickname, Abdul Haye Amin (Nistur Bandhu) , the name ‘Nistur Bandhu’ mean in English ‘Cruel Friend’ unfortunately, not by heart however, by sound tastes as ‘Cruel Friend’. Nick name given by associate Friends, I don’t not know the reason why? But I like by name ‘Nistur Bandhu’ under this name has been written ‘Bangla’ Songs released in Sylhet District, Bangladesh, by Bangla Music Industry. I love concentration on Reading British nation favourite news paper Sun page 3. Unfortunately, under the (Psychiatrist Medical Language) , often claims ‘Visual Hallucination’. Under the symptom, ‘Schizophrenia’- “Seeing, Hearing, Sensing thing which is not there” but I often believe I am reading Sun page 3. My disability Psychiatrist Doctors claim I am not reading! It (delusion) , mistaken beliefs, therefore, prescribed tablets “Seroxat and or the Zyprexa” to be Taken Five Time a day, Instead of Ritual. My habits of writing something on my own as a second Language “English” practice myself to communicate with peoples around me and to learn and over come communication my difficulties in Language of English. Left Secondary Holte School, City of Birmingham, West Midland, United Kingdom, without any Qualification. In English and In Bangla Whatsoever. Age of only ten Emigrated in the United Kingdom hardly can write my own name. By virtue of birth born in Sylhet District, by cast Muslim. Forty years old, free young, and Singles. Worked as an Indian Catering Industries. Many part of Britain was in headline news and Features articles for serving Indian meals ‘Chicken Curry and Rice’. The well known ‘Sub-Continent of India’, main dishes after ‘Bread and Butter’ and ‘Fish and Chip’, in England. Written book of poems in Bangla ‘Neel Dariar Prem’—(Bangladeshi) , mean in English ‘Oceans of Love’ once was known British India; the ‘Bangla’ poem book has been ‘Book reviewed’ by the well known In United Kingdom, Community weekly Newspaper, ‘Janomot’ under the book Review, ‘Neel Dariar Prem’—(Oceans of Love) , by Press Association in London. And also written in English Language book of poem, “The Islands Historia De Amor” However, I especially concentrate on unforeseeable miracles life beyond human being imagination in thought, for example the disaster of “Tsunami” in Japan and in ‘Sub-Continent of India’, often occupied our every day life by unknown power of force, I therefore, hope with well known websites I can use my passion of childhood in writing exploring my personal thought and bring something to share new to this websites community within mean of humanity, hospitality, and in love? . May I Thank You from bottom of the Ocean of Love for taking your precious spare times where ever you may be from times to read my Profiles. Unfortunately, regret and sympathise, I can pay you no reward for other than Almighty Lord, Whose name without known seeds and Inks written in the E.E.C. forest. To pay for you visit. Friendship Click of finger However, I do welcome and appreciates any one to suggest if any comments to make to let me know where do I actually stand? By The Islands Historia De Amor. http: // Haye Amin's Published Books:Nil Dariar Prem-(Oceans of Love) , In Bangla and Bangla Song 'Nistur Bandhu' and English book of poetry, 'The Islands Historia De Amor.
6Khan-I-khana, Abdul Rahim1(17 December 1556 – 1627 / Nawanshahr, Panjab / India)Khanzada Mirza Khan Abdul Rahim Khan-e-Khana also known as Rahim, was a composer in the times of Mughal emperor Akbar, and one of his main nine ministers (Diwan) in his court, also known as the Navaratnas; he is most known for his Hindi couplets and his books on Astrology. The village of Khankhana, named after him, is located in the Nawanshahr district of the state of Punjab in northwest India. Biography Mirza Abdul Rahim Khan-i-Khana was the son of Akbar’s trusted caretaker, Bairam Khan who had Turkic ancestry. When Humayun returned to India, from his exile, he is asked the nobles in court to forge matrimonial alliances with various zamindars, feudal lords, across the nation. While Humayun himself married the elder daughter of Jamal Khan of Mewat (present Mewat district of Haryana), he asked Bairam to marry the younger daughter. Gazetteer of Ulwur states: Soon after Babar's death, his successor, Humayun, was in A.D. 1540 supplanted by the Pathan Sher Shah Suri, who, in A.D. 1545, was followed by Islam Shah. During the reign of the latter a battle was fought and lost by the Emperor's troops at Firozpur, in Mewat, on which, however, Islam Shah did not loose his hold. Adil Shah, the third of the Pathan interlopers, who succeeded in A.D. 1552, had to contend for the empire with the returned Humayun. In these struggles for the restoration of Babar's dynasty Khanzadas apparently do not figure at all. Humayun seems to have conciliated them by marrying the elder daughter of Jamal Khan, nephew of Babar's opponent, Hasan Khan, and by causing his great minister, Bairam Khan, to marry a younger daughter of the same Mewatti. Maternal Lineage Khanzadahs,the royal family of Muslim Jadon (also spelt as Jadaun) Rajputs, accepted Islam on their association with the Sufi saints.Khanzadah, the Persian form of the Rajputana word 'Rajput', is the title of the great representatives of the ancient Jadubansi royal Rajput family, descendants of Krishna and therefore of Lunar Dynasty. They are the Mewatti Chiefs of the Persian historians, who were the representatives of the ancient Lords of Mewat. Khanzadah, or "the son of a Khan" is precisely the Muslim equivalent to the Hindu Rajput or "son of a Raja " ... —From Punjab Castes by Denzil Ibbetson Abdul Rahim was born in Lahore (now in Pakistan) on 14th Çafar 964 After Bairam Khan was murdered in Patan, Gujarat, his wife and young Rahim were brought safely to Ahmedabad, from they brought to Delhi and presented to the royal courts of Akbar, who gave him the title of 'Mirza Khan', and subsequently married him to Mah Banu, sister of Mirza Aziz Kokah, son of Ataga Khan, a noted Mughal noble. Later, Bairam Khan's wife became the second wife of Akbar, which made Abdul Rahim Khan-e-Khan his stepson, and later he became one of his nine prominent ministers, the Navaratnas, or nine gems. Although a Muslim by birth, Rahim was a devotee of Lord Krishna and wrote poetry dedicated to him. He was also an avid Astrolger, and the writer if two important works in Astrology Khet Kautukam and Dwawishd Yogavali are still popular. He is well known for his strange manner of giving alms to the poor. He never looked at the person he was giving alms to, keeping his gaze downwards in all humility. When Tulsidas heard about Rahim's strange method of giving alms, he promptly wrote a couplet and sent it to Rahim:- "Sir, Why give alms like this? Where'd you learn that?, Your hands are as high as your eyes are low" Realizing that Tulsidas was well aware of the truth behind creation, and was merely giving him an opportunity to say a few lines in reply, he wrote to Tulsidas in all humility:- "The Giver is someone else, giving day and night. So they won't give me the credit, I lower my eyes." His two sons were killed by Akbar's son Jehangir and their bodies left to rot at the Khooni Darwaza because Rahim was not in favor of Jehangir's accession to the throne at Akbar's death. His tomb is situated in Nizamuddin on the Mathura road ahead of Humayun's Tomb in New Delhi, it was built by him for his wife in 1598, and later he was himself buried in it in 1627. Later, in 1753-4, marble and sandstone from this tomb was used for the making of Safdarjung's Tomb, also in New Delhi. Popular Couplets of Rahim "The truly great never reveal their worth. Nor do those who are truly worthy of praise, praise themselves. Says Rahim, when does a diamond reveals its value." "Says Rahim, when you are introduced to an important/rich person, do not ignore or forget your poor friends. For if, for example, you need a needle to successfully complete a job, of what use is a sword!" "Says Rahim, don't allow the (delicate) thread of love (between individuals) to snap. Once it snaps, it cannot be rejoined and if you do rejoin it, there is a knot in it." "Says, Rahim, this mind (body) is like a sieve (winnowing fan), sort out your friends through it. Let the light (bad) ones and go (fly in the wind) and carefully keep the heavy (good) ones." "To cure a bitter cucumber,we cut its head off and rub in salt. Says Rahim to cure a bitter mouth we should apply the same remedy" "Says Rahim, How will evil corrupt, he who has an excellent character? After all does the sandalwood become poisonous by having snakes lie around its trunk?" "Says Rahim, people will find many many ways to be related to fortune. But only he is a true friend, who stands by you in misfortune" "Says Rahim, he who has to beg is no longer a man. But those who refuse were never men to begin with."Abdul Rahim Khan-I-khana's Published Books:Various 'doha' (Hindi Couplets) Kheta Kautukama (Astrology Treatise) Dwawishd Yogavali (Astrology Treatise) Baburnama (Translate book of Babar's memory)
7Abdul Wahab418(face book id is of the poems is waited......and if you want my reviews on your poems please add me on facebook...
8Abhinaba Sen18(17-10-1975 / Kolkata)Abhinaba Sen is not a poet at all…sometimes writes some stupid words…so don’t rate his words as a regular poet…but if u like…his pleasure indeed…?Abhinaba Sen's Published Books:wow hope someday lol
9Abhinit Chute (abz)14Have forgotten everything else<br>On account of my love..<br>The beauty of my dream-girl<br>Has brought me above..<br>Here what I see, <br>Is the sweetest thing..<br>That apologizes enemies, <br>Lets pigs to sing..<br>And that's why I<br>
10Cowley, Abraham20(1618 – 28 July 1667 / London)His father, a wealthy citizen, who died shortly before his birth, was a stationer. His mother was wholly given to works of devotion, but it happened that there lay in her parlour a copy of The Faerie Queene. This became the favourite reading of her son, and he had twice devoured it all before he was sent to school. As early as 1628, that is, in his tenth year, he composed his Tragicall History of Piramus and Thisbe, an epic romance written in a six-line stanza, a style of his own invention. It is not too much to say that this work is the most astonishing feat of imaginative precocity on record; it is marked by no great faults of immaturity, and possesses constructive merits of a very high order. Two years later the child wrote another and still more ambitious poem, Constantia and Philetus, being sent about the same time to Westminster School. Here he displayed extraordinary mental precocity and versatility, and wrote in his thirteenth year the Elegy on the Death of Dudley, Lord Carlton. These three poems of considerable size, and some smaller ones, were collected in 1633, and published in a volume entitled Poetical Blossoms, dedicated to the head master of the school, and prefaced by many laudatory verses by schoolfellows. The author at once became famous, although he had not, even yet, completed his fifteenth year. His next composition was a pastoral comedy, entitled Love's Riddle, a marvelous production for a boy of sixteen, airy, correct and harmonious in language, and rapid in movement. The style is not without resemblance to that of Randolph, whose earliest works, however, were at that time only just printed. In 1637 Cowley was elected into Trinity College, Cambridge, where he betook himself with enthusiasm to the study of all kinds of learning, and early distinguished himself as a ripe scholar. It was about this time that he composed his scriptural epic on the history of King David, one book of which still exists in the Latin original, the rest being superseded in favour of an English version in four books, called the Davideis, which were published after his death. The epic, written in a very dreary and turgid manner, but in good rhymed heroic verse, deals with the adventures of King David from his boyhood to the smiting of Amalek by Saul, where it abruptly closes. In 1638 Love's Riddle and a Latin comedy, the Naufragium Joculare, were printed, and in 1641 the passage of Prince Charles through Cambridge gave occasion to the production of another dramatic work, The Guardian, which was acted before the royal visitor with much success. During the civil war this play was privately performed at Dublin, but it was not printed till 1650. It is bright and amusing, in the style common to the "sons" of Ben Jonson, the university wits who wrote more for the closet than the public stage. Royalist in Exile The learned quiet of the young poet's life was broken up by the Civil War; he warmly espoused the royalist side. He became a fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, but was ejected by the Parliamentarians in 1643. He made his way to Oxford, where he enjoyed the friendship of Lord Falkland, and was tossed, in the tumult of affairs, into the personal confidence of the royal family itself After the battle of Marston Moor he followed the queen to Paris, and the exile so commenced lasted twelve years. This period was spent almost entirely in the royal service, "bearing a share in the distresses of the royal family, or labouring in their affairs. To this purpose he performed several dangerous journeys into Jersey, Scotland, Flanders, the Netherlands, or wherever else the king's troubles required his attendance. But the chief testimony of his fidelity was the laborious service he underwent in maintaining the constant correspondence between the late king and the queen his wife. In that weighty trust he behaved himself with indefatigable integrity and unsuspected secrecy; for he ciphered and deciphered with his own hand the greatest part of all the letters that passed between their majesties, and managed a vast intelligence in many other parts, which for some years together took up all his days, and two or three nights every week." In spite of these labours he did not refrain from literary industry. During his exile he met with the works of Pindar, and determined to reproduce their lofty lyric passion in English. It must be noted, however, that Cowley misunderstood Pindar's metrical practice and therefore his reproduction of the Pindaric Ode form in English does not accurately reflect Pindar's poetics. But despite this problem, Cowley's use of iambic lines of irregular length, pattern, and rhyme scheme was very influential and is still known as English "Pindarick" Ode, or Irregular Ode. One of the most famous odes written after Cowley in the Pindaric tradition is Wordsworth's "Intimations of Immortality." During this same time, Cowley occupied himself in writing a history of the Civil War (which did not get published in full until 1973). In the preface to his 1656 Poems, Cowley mentioned that he had completed three books of an epic poem on the Civil War, but had left it unfinished after the First Battle of Newbury when the Royalist cause began to lose significant ground. In the preface Cowley indicated that he had destroyed all copies of the poem, but this was not precisely the truth. In 1697, twelve years after Cowley's death, a shortened version of the first book of the poem, called A Poem on the Late Civil War was published. It was assumed that the rest of the poem had indeed been destroyed or lost until the mid-20th century when scholar Allan Pritchard discovered the first of two extant manuscript copies of the whole poem among the Cowper family papers. Thus, the three completed books of Cowley's great (albeit unfinished) English epic, The Civill Warre (otherwise spelled "The Civil War"), was finally published in full for the first time in 1973. In 1647 a collection of his love verses, entitled The Mistress, was published, and in the next year a volume of wretched satires, The Four Ages of England, was brought out under his name, with the composition of which he had nothing to do. In spite of the troubles of the times, so fatal to poetic fame, his reputation steadily increased, and when, on his return to England in 1656, he published a volume of his collected poetical works, he found himself without a rival in public esteem. This volume included the later works already mentioned, the Pindarique Odes, the Davideis, the Mistress and some Miscellanies. Among the latter are to be found Cowley's most vital pieces. This section of his works opens with the famous aspiration: "What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the coming age my own?" It contains elegies on Wotton, Vandyck, Falkland, William Hervey and Crashaw, the last two being among Cowley's finest poems, brilliant, sonorous and original; the amusing ballad of The Chronicle, giving a fictitious catalogue of his supposed amours; various gnomic pieces; and some charming paraphrases from Anacreon. The Pindarique Odes contain weighty Lines and passages, buried in irregular and inharmonious masses of moral verbiage. Not more than one or two are good throughout, but a full posy of beauties may easily be culled from them. The long cadences of the Alexandrines with which most of the strophes close, continued to echo in English poetry from Dryden down to Gray, but the Odes themselves, which were found to be obscure by the poet's contemporaries, immediately fell into disesteem. The Mistress was the most popular poetic reading of the age, and is now the least read of all Cowley's works. It was the last and most violent expression of the amatory affectation of the 17th century, an affectation which had been endurable in Donne and other early writers because it had been the vehicle of sincere emotion, but was unendurable in Cowley because in him it represented nothing but a perfunctory exercise, a mere exhibition of literary calisthenics. He appears to have been of a cold, or at least of a timid, disposition; in the face of these elaborately erotic volumes, we are told that to the end of his days he never summoned up courage to speak of love to a single woman in real life. The "Leonora" of The Chronicle is said to have been the only woman he ever loved, and she married the brother of his biographer, Sprat. Return to England Soon after his return to England he was seized in mistake for another person, and only obtained his liberty on a bail of £1000. In 1658 he revised and altered his play of The Guardian, and prepared it for the press under the title of The Cutter of Coleman Street, but it did not appear until 1661. Late in 1658 Oliver Cromwell died, and Cowley took advantage of the confusion of affairs to escape to Paris, where he remained until the Restoration brought him back in Charles's train. He published in 1663 Verses upon several occasions, in which The Complaint is included. Cowley obtained permission to retire into the country; and through his friend, Lord St Albans, he obtained a property near Chertsey, where, devoting himself to botany and books, he lived in comparative solitude until his death. He took a practical interest in experimental science, and he was one of those advocating the foundation of an academy for the protection of scientific enterprise. Cowley's pamphlet on The Advancement of Experimental Philosophy, 1661, immediately preceded the foundation of the Royal Society; to which Cowley, in March 1667, at the suggestion of John Evelyn, addressed an ode. He died in the Porch House, in Chertsey, in consequence of having caught a cold while superintending his farm-labourers in the meadows late on a summer evening. On 3 August, Cowley was buried in Westminster Abbey beside the ashes of Chaucer and Spenser, where in 1675 the duke of Buckingham erected a monument to his memory. His Poemata Latina, including six books "Plantarum," were printed in 1668. The poetry of Cowley rapidly fell into neglect. The works of Cowley were collected in 1668, when Thomas Sprat brought out an edition in folio, to which he prefixed a life of the poet. There were many reprints of this collection, which formed the standard edition till 1881, when it was superseded by Alexander Balloch Grosart's privately printed edition in two volumes, for the Chertsey Worthies library. The Essays have frequently been revived.Abraham Cowley's Published Books:The Works of Mr. Abraham Cowley (Posthumous Collection 1688) A Satire Against Separatists (Disputed 1675)
11al-Husri, Abu l-Hasan1(Unknown - 1095)If white is the colour <br>of mourning in Andalusia, <br>it is a proper custom. <br><br>Look at me, <br>I dress myself in the white <br>of white hair <br>in mourning for youth.
12ABU SAYEM8(BIRTH: 19/10/1991 / SIRAJGANJ)Abu Sayem, son of Shahidul islam and Ambia khatun, was born on October19,1991 at Sonatala under Shahjadpur upazill of Sirajganj district, Bangladesh.
14Ace Of Black Hearts972(04/17/1984 / Homa Lousiana)All who hide behind walls see nothing Conformity to the wealth in need. The unnecessary necessity. Let humanity be a gift, not a curse. Develop another verse. My real name is John David Bastian Not that my name should be so important. But a biography should include such things. I was born in Homa Louisiana 1984. At the great age of 4 my mom and father moved me to Pennsylvania. Where I have resided ever since then. Their is of many towns in this state of which I have lived. But of them the one I really grew up in was Milton. It had it's own unique smells, and scenery abound. But the people is what made it my home town. My proper education has been very limited. I never finished high school. I started working at the age of 16. A mighty fine dish washer indeed. With pots and plates that needed to be clean. My favorite Poet is Edgar Allan Poe.but the voices of your own being to keep you company. My favorite Poem/Story Is MS. found in a bottle. Written By Edgar Allan Poe. My favorite Novel/Series Is Mary Stewart's Merlin Trilogy. Which Includes The Crystal Cave, The Hollow Hills, And The Last Enchantment. And now of my other name. ~Ace Black Of Hearts Defined For me this name has deep meaning. And some one message about where came up with such a name. In my younger years I suffer and endured a lot. As such I came up with a name. To say the to whom ever read my poems I can be indifferent if that's what you want. To say I'm really good at it. I do have a mean streak in me believe it or not. I came up with this at the age of 16. I started writing at the age of 16. I was one those kids picked on, abused, used, hurt, etc. And instead of doing what the Columbine kids did. I decided to write. For I do have a conscience and a mind. In my decisions, my life I do define. I have very few friends, and even less family who I'm in contact with. It's not about the how many you have as much as how treat them. I live in a trailer in between two towns. In the boonies as some would say. I call it the country life. I work for a company that does tree trimming and take downs, and also do a little computer repair on the side. I am truly the average Joe. Trying live my life the best way I know how. And I write to describe my experiences, and thoughts that enter my head. An outward expression of the body, soul, heart, and mind. My poems are my pride and joy. So I hope you like them. Contact Info:,, I left facebook for G+ for it better suits my need feel free to hit me up there.. https: //
15Cambridge, Ada110[Ada Cross] (21 November 1844 – 19 July 1926 / St Gemans, Norfolk)Ada Cambridge, later known as Ada Cross, was an English-born Australian writer. Overall she wrote more than twenty-five works of fiction, three volumes of poetry and two autobiographical works. Many of her novels were serialised in Australian newspapers, and were never published in book form. While she was known to friends and family by her married name, Ada Cross, she was known to her newspaper readers as A.C. Later in her career she reverted to her maiden name, Ada Cambridge, and it is thus by this name that she is known. Biography Ada was born at St Germans, Norfolk, the second child of Thomasine and Henry Cambridge, a gentleman farmer. She was educated by governesses, an experience she abhorred. She wrote in a book of reminiscences: "I can truthfully affirm that I never learned anything which would now be considered worth learning until I had done with them all and started foraging for myself. I did have a few months of boarding-school at the end, and a very good school for its day it was, but it left no lasting impression on my mind." (The Retrospect, chap. IV). It was, in fact, an unmarried aunt who most contributed to her intellectual development. On 25 April 1870 she was married to the Rev. George Frederick Cross and a few weeks later sailed for Australia. She arrived in Melbourne in August and was surprised to find it a well established city. Her husband was sent to Wangaratta, then to Yackandandah (1872), Ballan (1874), Coleraine (1877), Bendigo (1884) and Beechworth (1885), where they remained until 1893. Her Thirty Years in Australia (1903) describes their experiences in these parishes. She experienced her share of tragedy, including the loss of children to whooping cough and scarlet fever. Cross at first was the typical hard-working wife of a country clergyman, taking part in all the activities of the parish and incidentally making her own children's clothes. Her health, however, broke down, for a number of reasons including a near-fatal miscarriage and a serious carriage accident, and her activities had to be reduced, but she continued to write. In 1893 Cross and her husband moved to their last parish, Williamstown, near Melbourne, and remained there until 1909. Her husband went on the retired clergy list at the end of 1909 with permission to operate in the diocese until 1912. In 1913 they both returned to England, where they stayed until his death on 27 February 1917. Ada returned to Australia later that year, and died in Melbourne on 19 July 1926. She was survived by a daughter and a son, Dr K. Stuart Cross. A street in the Canberra suburb of Cook is named in her honour. Works While Cambridge began writing in the 1870s to make money to help support her children, her formal published career spans from 1865 with Hymns on the Litany and The Two Surplices, to 1922 with an article 'Nightfall' in Atlantic Monthly. According to Barton, her early works 'contain the seeds of her lifelong insistence on and pursuit of physical, spiritual and moral integrity as well as the interweaving of poetry and prose which was to typify her writing career.Cato writes that 'some of her ideas were considered daring and even a little improper for a clergyman's wife. She touches on extramarital affairs and the physical bondage of wives'. In 1875 her first novel Up the Murray appeared in the Australasian but was not published separately, and it was not until 1890 with the publication of A Marked Man that her fame as a writer was established.However, despite regular good reviews, there were many who discounted her because she did not write in the literary tradition of the time, one that was largely non-urban and masculine, that focused on survival against the harsh environment. She was first president of the Women Writers Club and honorary life-member of the Lyceum Club of Melbourne, and had many friends in the literary world including Grace 'Jennings' Carmicheal, Rolf Boldrewood , Ethel Turner and George Robertson.Ada Cambridge's Published Books:Hymns on the Litany (1865) Hymns on the Holy Communion (1866) The Manor House: and Other Poems (1875) My Guardian (Novel, 1877) In Two Years' Time (Novel, 1879) A Mere Chance (Novel, 1882) Unspoken Thoughts (Novel, 1887) A Woman's Friendship (Serialised in the Age, 1889; first published in book form in 1988) A Marked Man (Novel, 1890) The Three Miss Kings (Novel, 1891) Not All in Vain (Novel, 1892) A Little Minx (Novel, 1893) A Marriage Ceremony (Novel, 1894), Fidelis (Novel, 1895) A Humble Enterprise (Novel, 1896), At Midnight: and Other Stories (1897) Materfamilias (Novel, 1898), Path and Goal (Novel, 1900) The Devastators (Novel, 1901) Thirty Years in Australia (Memoir, 1903) Sisters (Novel, 1904) A Platonic Friendship (Novel, 1905) A Happy Marriage (Novel, 1906) The Eternal Feminine (Novel, 1907) The Retrospect (Memoir, 1912) The Hand in the Dark: and Other Poems (1913) The Making of Rachel Rowe (Novel, 1914)
16Adalia Ortiz1where are you? <br>to take my pain<br>to make me smile<br>to hold me<br>to make me laugh <br>to take the tears<br>to tell me everything will be alright<br><br>where are you? <br>
17Gordon, Adam Lindsay68(19 October 1833 – 24 June 1870 / Azores)Gordon was born at Fayal in the Azores, son of Captain Adam Durnford Gordon who had married his first cousin, Harriet Gordon, both of whom were descended from Adam of Gordon of the ballad. Captain Gordon, who had retired from the Bengal cavalry and taught Hindustani, was then staying at the Azores for the sake of his wife's health. After living on the island of Madeira, they went to England and lived at Cheltenham in 1840. Gordon was sent to Cheltenham College in 1841 when he was only seven, but after he had been there a year he was sent to a school kept by the Rev. Samuel Ollis Garrard in Gloucestershire. He attended the Royal Military Academy, Woolwich in 1848, where he was a contemporary and friend of Charles George Gordon (no relation, later 'Gordon of Khartoum') and Thomas Bland Strange (later known as 'Gunner Jingo'). There Gordon appears to have been good at sports, but not studious and certainly undisciplined – and like Richard Henry Horne, he was asked to leave. Gordon was again admitted a pupil at Cheltenham College. He was not there for long – he appears to have left in the middle of 1852 – but the story that he was expelled from Cheltenham is without foundation. Then Gordon was sent to the Royal Grammar School Worcester in 1852. Gordon began to lead a wild and aimless life, contracted debts, and was a great anxiety to his father, who at last decided that his son should go to Australia and make a fresh start in 1853 to join the mounted police with a letter of introduction to the Governor. Gordon had fallen in love with Jane Bridges, a girl of 17 who was able to tell the story 60 years afterwards to his biographers. Gordon did not declare his love until he came to say good-bye to her before leaving for Australia on 7 August 1853. "With characteristic recklessness he offered to sacrifice the passage he had taken to Australia, and all his father's plans for giving him a fresh start in life, if she would tell him not to go, or promise to be his wife, or even give him some hope." This Miss Bridges could not do, though she liked the shy handsome boy and remembered him with affection to the end of a long life. It was the one romance of Gordon's life. That Gordon realized his conduct had fallen much below what it might have been can be seen in his poems ... "To my Sister", written three days before he left England, and "Early Adieux", evidently written about the same time. To Australia Gordon was just over 20 years old when he arrived at Adelaide on 14 November 1853. He immediately obtained a position in the South Australian mounted police and was stationed at Mount Gambier and Penola. On 4 November 1855 he resigned from the force and took up horse-breaking in the south-eastern district of South Australia. The interest in horse-racing which he had shown as a youth in England was continued in Australia, and in a letter written in November 1854 he mentioned that he had a horse for the steeplechase at the next meeting. In 1857 he met the Rev. Julian Tenison Woods who lent him books and talked poetry with him. He then had the reputation of being "a good steady lad and a splendid horseman". In this year his father died and he also lost his mother about two years later. From her estate he received £6944–18–1 on 26 October 1861. He was making a reputation as a rider over hurdles, and several times either won or was placed in local hurdle races and steeplechases. On 20 October 1862 he married Margaret Park, then a girl of 17. In March 1864 Gordon bought a cottage, Dingley Dell, near Port MacDonnell, and, in this same year, inspired by six engravings after Noel Paton illustrating "The Dowie Dens O' Yarrow", Gordon wrote a poem The Feud, of which 30 copies were printed at Mount Gambier. On 11 January 1865 he received a deputation asking him to stand for parliament and was elected by three votes to the South Australian House of Assembly on 16 March 1865. In politics, Gordon was a maverick. His semi-classical speeches were colourful and entertaining but largely irrelevant, and he resigned his seat on 20 November 1866. In July 1865 Gordon, performed the daring riding feat known as Gordon’s Leap on the edge of the Blue Lake. A commemorative obelisk erected there has an inscription which reads: “This obelisk was erected as a memorial to the famous Australian poet. From near this spot in July, 1865 Gordon made his famed leap on horseback over an old post and rail guard fence onto a narrow ledge overlooking the Blue Lake and jumped back again onto the roadway. The foundation stone of the Gordon Memorial Obelisk was laid on 8th July 1887”. Gordon's time in politics stimulated him to greater activity – poetry, horse racing and speculation. He was contributing verse to the Australasian and Bell's Life in Victoria and doing a fair amount of riding. He bought some land in Western Australia, but returned from a visit to it early in 1867 and went to live at Mount Gambier. On 10 June 1867 he published Ashtaroth, a Dramatic Lyric, and on the nineteenth of the same month Sea Spray and Smoke Drift. Move to Victoria With his failures behind him, Gordon turned to Victoria, not to Melbourne which had ignored his poetry, but to Ballarat. In November he rented Craig's livery stables at Ballarat in partnership with Harry Mount, but he had no head for business and the venture was a failure. In March 1868 he had a serious accident, a horse smashing his head against a gatepost of his own yard. His daughter, born on 3 May 1867, died at the age of 11 months, his financial difficulties were increasing, and he fell into very low spirits. In spite of short sight he was becoming very well known as a gentleman rider, and on 10 October 1868 actually won three races in one day at the Melbourne Hunt Club steeplechase meeting. He rode with great patience and judgment, but his want of good sight was always a handicap. He began riding for money but was not fortunate and had more than one serious fall. He sold his business and left Ballarat in October 1868 and came to Melbourne and eventually found lodgings at 10 Lewis Street, Brighton. He had succeeded in straightening his financial affairs and was more cheerful. He made a little money out of his racing and became a member of the Yorick Club, where he was friendly with Marcus Clarke, George Gordon McCrae, and a little later Henry Kendall. On 12 March 1870 Gordon had a bad fall while riding in a steeplechase at Flemington Racecourse. His head was injured and he never completely recovered. He had for some time been endeavoring to show that he was heir to the estate of Esslemont in Scotland, but there was a flaw in the entail, and in June he learnt that his claim must be abandoned. He had seen his last book, Bush Ballads and Galloping Rhymes, through the press, and it was published on 23 June 1870; it was not successful at the time, but is now regarded as one of the most important pieces of Australian literature. Gordon on that day met Kendall who showed him the proof of the favourable review he had written for the Australasian. But Gordon had just asked his publishers what he owed them for printing the book, and realized that he had no money to pay them and no prospects. He went home to his cottage at 10 Lewis Street Brighton carrying a package of cartridges for his rifle. Next morning he rose early, walked into the tea-tree scrub and shot himself. His wife went back to South Australia, married Peter Low, and lived until November 1919. In October 1870 a monument was erected over his grave at the Brighton General Cemetery by his close friends, and in 1932 a statue to his memory by Paul Montford was unveiled near parliament house, Melbourne; and many other statues and monuments throughout Australia. In May 1934 his bust was placed in Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey, being the only Australian poet to have one. Legacy Gordon was tall and handsome. But he stooped and held himself badly, partly on account of his short sight. He was shy, sensitive and, even before he was overwhelmed with troubles, inclined to be moody. After his head was injured at Ballarat he was never the same man again, and subsequent accidents aggravated his condition. Any suggestion that drink was a contributing cause may be disregarded. Sir Frank Madden, who was with him the day before his death, said that he was then absolutely sober, "he never cared for it [drink] and so far as I know seldom took it at all". The Rev. Tenison Woods in his "Personal Reminiscences" said "Those who did not know Gordon attributed his suicide to drink, but I repeat he was most temperate and disliked the company of drinking men". Gordon's death drew much attention to his work and especially in Melbourne the appreciation of it became overdone. This led to a revulsion of feeling among better judges and for a time it was underrated in some quarters. George Bernard Shaw jokes about Gordon's verse in his play Shakes versus Shav, a dialogue between Shakespeare and himself during which Shakespeare laughs at a line attributed to Gordon. Much of his verse is careless and banal, there are passages in Ashtaroth for instance that are almost unbelievably bad, but at his best he is a poet of importance, who on occasions wrote some magnificent lines. Douglas Sladen, a life-long admirer, in his Adam Lindsay Gordon, The Westminster Abbey Memorial Volume has made a selection of 27 poems which occupy about 90 pages. Without subscribing to every poem selected it may be said that Gordon is most adequately represented in a sheaf of this kind. His most sustained effort, the "Rhyme of Joyous Garde", has some glorious stanzas, and on it and some 20 other poems Gordon's fame may be allowed to rest. One of Gordon's poems, The Swimmer forms the libretto for the fifth movement of Edward Elgar's song cycle Sea Pictures, and Elgar also set to music another of his poems A Song of Autumn. After a particularly trying year for the Royal Family, Elizabeth II quoted from one of Gordon's more famous poems in her Christmas Message of 1992, "Kindness in another's trouble, courage in one's own..", but did not mention the poet's name. Dingley Dell, Gordon's property and home from 1862 to 1866, is preserved as a museum and a conservation park. The museum houses early volumes of his work, personal effects and a display of his horse riding equipment. In 1970 he was honoured on a postage stamp bearing his portrait issued by Australia Post .Adam Lindsay Gordon's Published Books:Ashtaroth, a Dramatic Lyric (1867) Sea Spray and Smoke Drift (1867) A Song of Autumn (1868) Bush Ballads and Galloping Rhymes (1870) The Sick Stockrider (1870) The Swimmer (ca. 1881)
18Adam M. Snow145(5/30/1988 / Phoenix, AZ)Profession: Poet/writer, Philosopher & Photographer Adam M. Snow is a popular internet poet known by many. Snow was born May 30th of 1988 in Phoenix, Arizona where he still lives. When he was born, he was lacked of oxygen and almost died. At age 5, Adam was soon diagnosed with ADHD with speech impediment; he was always in and out of hospitals because of it. Snow started writing poetry in 2003 though he originally started writing short stories. It was through his cousin that had inspired him to write poetry in the first place. Adam writes metaphorical style poetry and has experimented often with different styles of poetry; such as free verse, ode and lyrics. He was always alone throughout high school as he was a victim of bullying; he kept his distance from everyone, he remained by himself. He then graduated high school in 2006 from Tolleson Union High School; he suffered many years of unemployment. On the 9th of December in 2009, he lost his dad to cancer; some of his poems he wrote, he wrote for him. Snow is a Pentecostal Christian yet some of his poetry can be dark, but with a biblical meaning throughout it; like the poem 'Undying Tomorrow' for example. Over the years, Adam had so many people tell him that he should stop writing, that he’s not good. That never stopped him; he still writes poetry to this very day and he continues to inspire people through his works. [Famous quotes by Adam M. Snow] 'What inspires me is what inspires most poets; my heart, my feelings, and the dreams I dream.' –Adam M. Snow 'The writer’s mind can surpass even the most intellectual minds.' –Adam M. Snow 'An enemy is a friend, who's blind and cannot see the kindness of your heart.' –Adam M. Snow 'If we forget the past, then the past do we repeat.' –Adam M. Snow 'Life itself is a gift from God. It's not about when we use it, but how we use it; for selfish needs or compassion towards one another, to waste or to live fully in the moment, to love or to hate. There are many ways to live, only one way is true and that's through Him.' –Adam M. Snow 'I breath every moment God has given me.' –Adam M. Snow 'Poetry is the thoughts of an insane mind.' –Adam M. Snow 'When I write, I let lose my insanity; when I dream, I live my insanity.' –Adam M. Snow 'Who are we in this world? We are that what we dreamed, but it's up to you to make it reality.' –Adam M. Snow 'The end to a nightmare, is to simply open your eyes.' –Adam M. Snow 'To live is a wonderful thing; to love is tremendous.' –Adam M. Snow 'Poetry is a way for our soul to speak out.' –Adam M. Snow 'Shower your enemy with kindness and in return, kindness shall be showered upon you.' –Adam M. Snow 'Life can hurt, but it's the pain that we learn from.' –Adam M. Snow 'I see the world through two different eyes; the eyes of a poet, and the eyes of a dreamer.' –Adam M. Snow 'I am willing to explore all aspects of my life, to see what all I can do, to see if there is a limit to all things I am able to do. I am always up for a challenge and I welcome all challenges life brings my way.' –Adam M. Snow 'If we live like that we dreamed, there would be no pain to endure.' –Adam M. Snow 'Behind my eyes lies the deepest pain and loneliness no man should ever feel.' –Adam M. Snow 'The difference between a poet and a philosopher; the poet writes his thoughts down, as for the philosopher who speaks his thoughts. They are both one and the same.' –Adam M. Snow 'I have no control over what I write. The words just comes to me, I just put it to paper.' –Adam M. Snow 'God has not forsaken the people; the people have forsaken God.' –Adam M. Snow 'Life is like a caged bird, who sings only to pleases but dreams only to be free.' –Adam M. Snow 'It's better to give few words, whether it's just one than none at all.' –Adam M. Snow 'Life's about risks; if you don't take that risk, what is there to learn? ' –Adam M. Snow 'Life is too short for grudges, it's also too short for love; but I'd rather live a short life of love then a life of grudges.' –Adam M. Snow 'A poet is when you have nothing but words on your mind; words dying to be set free, words longing to be inspired, words longing to live on long after you have past. As long as your mind is full of words, you will always be a poet.' –Adam M. Snow 'Judge not the flesh of man, but the soul of man alone.' –Adam M. Snow 'One can't based love by appearance, for it be but false love; but if one based love by the feelings of the heart, then it be true.' –Adam M. Snow 'By judging others, you judge yourself.' –Adam M. Snow 'Believe not the lies of man, but the truth of the one true living God, spoken unto man.' –Adam M. Snow 'Trust is an important part of a relationship, and without trust there is no love, and without love there is no relationship. Trust is what keeps relationships alive, and without trust there's only hate' –Adam M. Snow 'A man who put himself before others, is but chaos waiting to happen. A man who put others before him, is a man who's willing to sacrifice all.' –Adam M. Snow 'Even a broken life can become whole.' –Adam M. Snow 'Sometimes it's best to stop looking with our eyes, and start looking with our hearts.' –Adam M. Snow 'Learn from your problems like you learn from your mistakes.' –Adam M. Snow 'This world is but a temporary home, our life is the path, the road to our home, but it takes the right path to get there and it takes going down some hard roads to make it home.' –Adam M. Snow 'One is never alone for the Lord is always there.' –Adam M. Snow 'Sometimes, the best way for one to be found is to stay lost.' –Adam M. Snow 'A wish is but a goal in life.' –Adam M. Snow 'To know yourself is to know your heart, to know your heart is to seek your dream.' –Adam M. Snow 'Life is fragile like a child's dream.' –Adam M. Snow 'To win a fight one must know the enemy, to win a war one must become the enemy.' –Adam M. Snow 'One cannot predict the future, only God has the power to.' –Adam M. Snow 'You never learn anything unless you try.' –Adam M. Snow 'It's always easy to hate yet so hard to forgive but, it takes love to overcome hate, and it takes love to make it easy to forgive; love is a powerful thing, yet it's also fragile, but with God, love is unbreakable.' –Adam M. Snow 'We are broken up, scattered like an unfinished puzzle and the only pieces that are missing are honor, loyalty, friendship, trust, and most important love. Without these the puzzle will never be one.' –Adam M. SnowAdam M. Snow's Published Books:Fruits of Insanity - Coming Soon Imaginary (novel) - Coming Soon
19Adam McKim51(11/12/1984)My name is Adam. I was born and raised in a small town in Missouri. Growing up I always enjoyed reading books. I first got into writing after being inspired by my English teacher who also taught a writing class. Over the years I have written mostly about love and heartbreaks but every once in awhile I branch out a little and write on a different subject. I have mostly stuck with a certain style of writing but recently began to branch out on that as well and write some strict form types of poems. I hope you enjoy my work and I look forward to anything you have to say about them.
20Adela Myers15Walking past u in the hall, my heart beats fast<br>Catching your eye, my heart stops<br>Seeing you flirt with another, my heart cries<br>Seeing u smile at me, Time moves slow<br>Thinking about us, I want it to be true<br>If I do date u, would u hurt me<br>If I'm upset, would u comfort me<br>If I was sad, could u make my day better<br>If u saw me in the rain, would u kiss me<br>
21Procter, Adelaide Anne9(30 October 1825 – 2 February 1864 / London)She was the eldest daughter of the poet Bryan Waller Procter ("Barry Cornwall") and Anne Benson Skepper. As a child Adelaide showed precocious intelligence. She attained considerable proficiency in French, German, and Italian, as well as in music and drawing, and she was a great reader. Brought up in surroundings favourable to the development of literary leanings, she began to write verses at an early age, and at eighteen contributed to the "Book of Beauty". In 1851, she and two of her sisters became Catholics without, apparently, any disturbance of the harmonious relations of the domestic circle. In 1853, under the pseudonym of "Mary Berwick", she sent to "Household Words" a short poem, which so pleased the editor, Charles Dickens that he not only accepted it but also invited further contributions. It was not till late in the following year that Dickens learned that his unknown correspondent was the daughter of his old friend, Barry Cornwall. To "Household Words" and "All the Year Round" nearly all her poetry was in the first instance contributed. In 1858-60 her poems were collected and published in two series under the title of "Legends and Lyrics". They had a great success, reaching the tenth edition in 1866. In that year a new issue, with introduction by Dickens, was printed, and there have been several reprints since. Miss Procter was of a charitable disposition: she visited the sick, befriended the destitute and home- less, taught the ignorant, and endeavored to raise up the fallen ones of her own sex. She was generous yet practical with the income derived from her works. In 1859 she served on a committee to consider fresh ways and means of providing employment for women; in 1861 she edited a miscellany, entitled "Victoria Regis", which had some of the leading litterateurs of the time as contributors and which was set up in type by women compositors; and in 1862 she published a slender volume of her own poems, "A Chaplet of Verses", mostly of a religious turn, for the benefit of the Providence Row night refuge for homeless women and children, which, as the first Catholic Refuge in the United Kingdom, had been opened on 7 October, 1860, and placed under the care of the Sisters of Mercy. In her charitable zeal she appears to have unduly taxed her strength, and her health, never robust, gave way under the strain. The cure at Malvern was tried in vain; and, after an illness of fifteen months, she died calmly, and was buried in Kensal Green Cemetery.Adelaide Anne Procter's Published Books:A House to Let, co-written with Charles Dickens, Elizabeth Gaskell and Wilkie Collins (1858) Legends and Lyrics, first series (1858) Legends and Lyrics, second series (1861) A Chaplet of Verses (1862) The Haunted House, co-written with Charles Dickens, Elizabeth Gaskell, Wilkie Collins, George Sala and Hesba Stretton (1859)
22Von Chamisso, Adelbert8(30 January 1781 – 21 August 1838 / Champagne)Adelbert von Chamisso was a German poet and botanist. He was born Louis Charles Adélaïde de Chamissot at the château of Boncourt at Ante, in Champagne, France, the ancestral seat of his family. His name appears in several forms, one of the most common being Ludolf Karl Adalbert von Chamisso. Driven out by the French Revolution, his parents settled in Berlin, where in 1796 young Chamisso obtained the post of page-in-waiting to the queen, and in 1798 entered a Prussian infantry regiment as ensign. Shortly thereafter, upon the Peace of Tilsit, his family was permitted to return to France; he remained in Germany and continued his military career. He had little education, and while in the Prussian military service in Berlin assiduously studied natural science for three years. In collaboration with Varnhagen von Ense, he founded (1803) the Berliner Musenalmanach, in which his first verses appeared. The enterprise was a failure, and, interrupted by the war, it came to an end in 1806. It brought him, however, to the notice of many of the literary celebrities of the day and established his reputation as a rising poet. He had become lieutenant in 1801, and in 1805 accompanied his regiment to Hameln, where he shared in the humiliation of its treasonable capitulation in the following year. Placed on parole, he went to France, but both his parents were dead; returning to Berlin in the autumn of 1807, he obtained his release from the service early the following year. Homeless and without a profession, disillusioned and despondent, he lived in Berlin until 1810, when, through the services of an old friend of the family, he was offered a professorship at the lycée at Napoléonville in the Vendée. He set out to take up the post, but instead joined the circle of Madame de Staël, and followed her in her exile to Coppet in Switzerland, where, devoting himself to botanical research, he remained nearly two years. In 1812 he returned to Berlin, where he continued his scientific studies. In the summer of the eventful year, 1813, he wrote the prose narrative Peter Schlemihl, the man who sold his shadow. This, the most famous of all his works, has been translated into most European languages (English by William Howitt). It was written partly to divert his own thoughts and partly to amuse the children of his friend Julius Eduard Hitzig. In 1815, Chamisso was appointed botanist to the Russian ship Rurik, fitted out at the expense of Count Nikolay Rumyantsev, which Otto von Kotzebue (son of August von Kotzebue) commanded on a scientific voyage round the world. His diary of the expedition (Tagebuch, 1821) is a fascinating account of the expedition to the Pacific Ocean and the Bering Sea. During this trip Chamisso described a number of new species found in what is now the San Francisco Bay Area. Several of these, including the California poppy, Eschscholzia californica, were named after his friend Johann Friedrich von Eschscholtz, the Rurik's entomologist. In return, Eschscholtz named a variety of plants, including the genus Camissonia, after Chamisso. On his return in 1818 he was made custodian of the botanical gardens in Berlin, and was elected a member of the Academy of Sciences, and in 1819 he married his friend Hitzig's foster daughter Antonie Piaste (1800–1837). In 1827, partly for the purpose of rebutting the charges brought against him by Kotzebue, he published Views and Remarks on a Voyage of Discovery, and Description of a Voyage Round the World. Both works display great accuracy and industry. His last scientific labor was a tract on the Language of Owyhee. Chamisso's travels and scientific researches restrained for a while the full development of his poetical talent, and it was not until his forty-eighth year that he turned back to literature. In 1829, in collaboration with Gustav Schwab, and from 1832 in conjunction with Franz von Gaudy, he brought out the Deutscher Musenalmanach, in which his later poems were mainly published. He died in Berlin at the age of 57. His grave is preserved in the Protestant Friedhof III der Jerusalems- und Neuen Kirchengemeinde (Cemetery No. III of the congregations of Jerusalem's Church and New Church) in Berlin-Kreuzberg, south of Hallesches Tor. Belles lettres Chamisso's earliest writings, which include a verse translation of the tragedy Le Compte de Comminge in which "heilsam" is used in place of "heilig", show a 20 year old still struggling to master his new language, and a number of his early poems are in French. Between 1801 and 1804 he became closely associated with other writers and edited their journal. As a poet Chamisso's reputation stands high. Frauenliebe und -leben (1830), a cycle of lyrical poems set to music by Robert Schumann, by Carl Loewe, and by Franz Paul Lachner, is particularly famous. Also noteworthy are Schloss Boncourt and Salas y Gomez. He often deals with gloomy or repulsive subjects; and even in his lighter and gayer productions there is an undertone of sadness or of satire. In the lyrical expression of the domestic emotions he displays a fine felicity, and he knew how to treat with true feeling a tale of love or vengeance. Die Löwenbraut may be taken as a sample of his weird and powerful simplicity; and Vergeltung is remarkable for a pitiless precision of treatment. The first collected edition of Chamisso's works was edited by Hitzig and published in six volumes in 1836.Adelbert Von Chamisso's Published Books:Frauenliebe und Leben (1830) Schloss Boncourt Salas y Gomez Die Löwenbraut Vergeltung
23ADOO TUADUM3The man with the love<br>Never dropped me on your pack<br>For my love is in your part<br>Not to mention in particular<br>The sweetness in my mind<br>That keeps the reminder<br><br>Never child away from me<br>For your love had sponge my lips<br>
24Adrian Henri28(10 April 1932 - 20 December 2000 / Birkenhead, Cheshire)Adrian Henri was a British poet and painter, best remembered as the founder of poetry-rock group The Liverpool Scene and as one of three poets in the best-selling anthology The Mersey Sound, along with Brian Patten and Roger McGough . The trio of Liverpool poets came to prominence in that city's Merseybeat zeitgeist of the 1960s and 1970s. He was described by Edward Lucie-Smith in British Poetry since 1945 as the "theoretician" of the three. His characterisation of popular culture in verse helped to widen the audience for poetry among 1960s British youth. He was influenced by the French Symbolist school of poetry and surrealist art. Adrian Henri's grandfather was a seaman from Mauritius who settled in Birkenhead, Cheshire, where Henri was born. In 1938, at the age of 6, Henri moved to Rhyl. Henri studied art at Newcastle and for a short time taught art at Preston Catholic College before going on later to lecture in art at both Manchester and Liverpool Colleges of Art. He was closely associated with other artists of the area and the era including the Pop artist Neville Weston and the conceptual artist Keith Arnatt. In 1972 he won a major prize for his painting in the John Moores competition. He was president of the Merseyside Arts Association and Liverpool Academy of the Arts in the 1970s and was an honorary professor of the city's John Moores University. He married twice, but had no children. His career spanned everything from artist and poet to teacher, rock-and-roll performer, playwright and librettist. He could name among his friends John Lennon, George Melly, Allen Ginsberg , Willy Russell, John Willett, and Paul McCartney. Unlike McGough and Patten, Henri turned his back on the trendier London scene, and chose to remain in Liverpool, saying there was nowhere he loved better. His numerous publications include The Mersey Sound, with McGough and Patten—a best-selling poetry anthology that brought all three of them to wider attention—Wish You Were Here and Not Fade Away. He was the leading light of a band, The Liverpool Scene, which released four LPs of poetry and music. Earlier, in 1955,he played washboard in the King's College, Newcastle Skiffle Group. He was a firm believer in live poetry reading, and read his poetry at many and varied venues as well as holding poetry workshops at schools and colleges. One of his last major poetry readings was at the launch of The Argotist magazine in 1996. He died in Liverpool aged 68 following a long illness. Shortly before his death, he was awarded the Freedom of the City of Liverpool in recognition of his contribution to Liverpool's cultural scene. He also received an honorary doctorate from the University of Liverpool. He described his early philosophy as, "If you think you can do it and you want to do it — then do it."Adrian Henri's Published Books:The Mersey Sound, cowritten with Roger McGough and Brian Patten (1967) Wish You Were Here (1990) Not Fade Away (1994) Poetry Albums The Incredible New Liverpool Scene (As the Liverpool Scene 1967) The Amazing Adventures Of (As the Liverpool Scene 1968) Bread On The night (As the Liverpool Scene 1969) St. Adrian & Co., Broadway and 3rd (As the Liverpool Scene 1970) Heirloon (As the Liverpool Scene 1970)
26adrienne sharpe7embedded in the belly of the beast<br>sowed in petrified devastation<br>left to thrive in brambles of genocide<br>to flourish in storms of mayhem<br>Star of Bethlehem in this slum<br>my bulb derived from holocaust ruination<br>my stem concealing a thousand words of hope<br>i prosper against odds of anguishin'<br>nutriment is tainted waters<br>
27Aeschylus12(525 BC - 455 BC / Eleusis)The "Father of Tragedy," Aeschylus was born in 525 B.C. in the city of Eleusis. Immersed early in the mystic rites of the city and in the worship of the Mother and Earth goddess Demeter, he was once sent as a child to watch grapes ripening in the countryside. According to Aeschylus, when he dozed off, Dionysus appeared to him in a dream and ordered him to write tragedies. The obedient young Aeschylus began a tragedy the next morning and "succeeded very easily." When Aeschylus first began writing, the theatre had only just begun to evolve. Plays were little more than animated oratorios or choral poetry supplemented with expressive dance. A chorus danced and exchanged dialogue with a single actor who portrayed one or more characters primarily by the use of masks. Most of the action took place in the circular dancing area or "orchestra" which still remained from the old days when drama had been nothing more than a circular dance around a sacred object. It was a huge leap for drama when Aeschylus introduced the second actor. He also attempted to involve the chorus directly in the action of the play. In Agamemnon, the chorus of Elders quarrels with the queen's lover, and in The Eumenides, a chorus of Furies pursue the grief-stricken Orestes. Aeschylus directed many of his own productions, and according to ancient critics, he is said to have brought the Furies onstage in so realistic a manner that women miscarried in the audience. Although Aeschylus is said to have written over ninety plays, only seven have survived. His first extant work, The Suppliants, reveals a young Aeschylus still struggling with the problems of choral drama. The tale revolves around the fifty daughers of Danaus who seek refuge in Argos from the attentions of the fifty sons of Aegyptus. His second extant drama, The Persians, recounts the battle of Salamis--in which Aeschylus and his brother actually fought--and deals primarily with the reception of the news at the imperial court. This play contains the first "ghost scene" of extant drama. In his third surviving play, Prometheus Bound, Aeschylus tackles the myth of Prometheus, the world's first humanitarian. As the play begins, the titan is being fastened against his will to a peak in the Caucasian mountains for giving mankind the gift of fire without the consent of the gods. Prometheus knows Zeus is destined to fall. In fact, he holds the secret of the Olympian's doom--a certain woman that will be his undoing--but Prometheus will not reveal her name. Even amid the fire from heaven that is hurled at him in a frightening climax, Prometheus remains fearless and silent. In Seven Against Thebes, Aeschylus deals with themes of patricide and incest. He was not, however, willing to settle for the conventional explanation of the "family curse". Instead, Aeschylus delved deeper, suggesting that heredity is nothing more than a predisposition--that the true cause of such "acts of wickedness" is ambition, greed, and a lack of moral fortitude. Thus, eliminating the gods as an excuse for wickedness, Aeschylus demanded that men take responsibility for their actions. The Oresteia, a trilogy, was performed in 458 BC, less than two years before Aeschylus' death. Once again, he dealt with the tragedy of a royal house, a "hereditary curse" which began in a dim, legendary world in which Tantalus was cast into the pit of Tartarus for revealing to mankind the secrets of the gods. This situation paralleled events in Aeschylus' own life. He was reportedly charged with "impiety" for revealing the Eleusinian mysteries--the secret rites of the city of his birth--to outsiders. It is likely, however, that these charges were politically motivated, and he was not convicted. Legend has it that Aeschylus met his death when an eagle mistook his bald head for a rock and dropped a tortoise on it. Whatever the cause of his death, his life laid the groundwork the dramatic arts would need to flourish, and by the time of his death, there were two notable successors ready to take his place--Sophocles and Euripides Influence On Greek Culture When Aeschylus first began writing, the theatre had only just begun to evolve, although earlier playwrights like Thespis had already expanded the cast to include an actor who was able to interact with the chorus. Aeschylus added a second actor, allowing for greater dramatic variety, while the chorus played a less important role. He is sometimes credited with introducing skenographia, or scene-decoration,though Aristotle gives this distinction to Sophocles. Aeschylus is also said to have made the costumes more elaborate and dramatic, and having his actors wear platform boots (cothurni) to make them more visible to the audience. According to a later account of Aeschylus's life, as they walked on stage in the first performance of the Eumenides, the chorus of Furies were so frightening in appearance that they caused young children to faint, patriarchs to urinate, and pregnant women to go into labour. His plays were written in verse, no violence is performed on stage, and the plays have a remoteness from daily life in Athens, either by relating stories about the gods or by being set, like The Persians, in far-away locales. Aeschylus's work has a strong moral and religious emphasis. The Oresteia trilogy concentrated on man's position in the cosmos in relation to the gods, divine law, and divine punishment. Aeschylus's popularity is evident in the praise the comic playwright Aristophanes gives him in The Frogs, produced some half-century after Aeschylus's death. Appearing as a character in the play, Aeschylus claims at line 1022 that his Seven against Thebes "made everyone watching it to love being warlike"; with his Persians, Aeschylus claims at lines 1026-7 that he "taught the Athenians to desire always to defeat their enemies." Aeschylus goes on to say at lines 1039ff. that his plays inspired the Athenians to be brave and virtuous. Influence outside of Greek Culture Aeschylus's works were influential beyond his own time. Hugh Lloyd-Jones (Regius Professor of Greek Emeritus at Oxford University) draws attention to Wagner's reverence of Aeschylus. Michael Ewans argues in his Wagner and Aeschylus. The Ring and the Oresteia (London: Faber. 1982) that the influence was so great as to merit a direct character by character comparison between Wagner's Ring and Aeschylus's Oresteia. A critic of his book however, while not denying that Wagner read and respected Aeschylus, has described his arguments as unreasonable and forced. Sir J. T. Sheppard argues in the second half of his Aeschylus and Sophocles: Their Work and Influence that Aeschylus, along with Sophocles, have played a major part in the formation of dramatic literature from the Renaissance to the present, specifically in French and Elizabethan drama. He also claims that their influence went beyond just drama and applies to literature in general, citing Milton and the Romantics. During his presidential campaign in 1968, Senator Robert F. Kennedy quoted the Edith Hamilton translation of Aeschylus on the night of the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. Kennedy was notified of King's murder before a campaign stop in Indianapolis, Indiana and was warned not to attend the event due to fears of rioting from the mostly African-American crowd. Kennedy insisted on attending and delivered an impromptu speech that delivered news of King's death to the crowd. Acknowledging the audience's emotions, Kennedy referred to his own grief at the murder of his brother, President John F. Kennedy and, quoting a passage from the play Agamemnon, said: "My favorite poet was Aeschylus. He once wrote: 'Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, until in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.' What we need in the United States is not division; what we need in the United States is not hatred; what we need in the United States is not violence or lawlessness; but love and wisdom, and compassion toward one another, and a feeling of justice toward those who still suffer within our country, whether they be white or they be black... Let us dedicate ourselves to what the Greeks wrote so many years ago: to tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world." The speech is considered to be Kennedy's finest. The quotation from Aeschylus was later inscribed on a memorial at the gravesite of Robert Kennedy following his own assassinationAeschylus's Published Books:The Persians Seven Against Thebes The Suppliants The Oresteia trilogy Agamemnon The Libation Bearers The Eumenides Prometheus Bound (disputed)
28Fet, Afanasy Afanasyevich12(5 December 1820 - 3 December 1892 / Novosyolky)Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet, later changed his name to Shenshin was a Russian poet regarded as one of the finest lyricists in Russian literature. Biography Origins The circumstances of Afanasy Fet's birth have been the subject of controversy, and some uncertainties still remain. Even the exact date is unknown and has been cited as either October 29 (old style), or November 23 or 29, 1820. Brief biographies usually maintain that Fet was the son of the Russian landlord Shenshin and a German woman named Charlotta Becker, an that at the age of 14 he had to change his surname from his father's to that of Fet, because the marriage of Shenshin and Becker, registered in Germany, was deemed legally void in Russia. Detailed studies reveal a complicated and controversial story. It began in September 1820 when a respectable 44-year old landlord from Mtsensk, Afanasy Neofitovich Shenshin, (described as a follower of Jean-Jacques Rousseau's ideas) returned to his Novosyolky estate from the German spa resorts where he had spent a year on a recreational trip. There he had rented rooms in the house of Karl Becker and fell for his daughter Charlotta Elizabeth, a married woman with a one-year-old daughter named Carolina, and pregnant with another child. As to what happened next, opinions vary. According to some sources. Charlotta hastily divorced her husband Johann Foeth, a Darmstadt court official, others maintain that Shenshin approached Karl Becker with the idea that the latter should help his daughter divorce Johann, and when the old man refused to cooperate, kidnapped his beloved (with her total consent). One thing is certain: in the autumn of 1820 the 22-year old Charlotta Foeth found herself at Shenshin's Novosyolky estate. In October (or November, depending on another source) she gave birth to a boy who was christened Afanasy Afansyevich Shenshin and registered in the local metrics as Shenshin's son (a fact which Shenshin had to concede could not be true several years later). The pair married in 1822 . The question of Fet's ethnicity has been a matter of some debate too. People who knew Fet well (among them were the poet Yakov Polonsky and members of Leo Tolstoy's family) referred to Charlotta Foeth as 'a German Jew'; according to Tatyana Kuzminskaya (Sophia Tolstaya's sister), Fet's "greatest grievance in life was the fact that he was not a legitimate Shenshin like his brothers (who treated him as a brother) but the illegitimate son of a Jew named Foeth. He refused to understand that the name 'Fet' was now superior to that of Shenshin, and that he himself had created it - a fact that Leo Tolstoy tried in vain to convince him of. There are numerous marginal theories as to Fet's origins. One was mentioned (in a 1937 autobiography) by Igor Grabar who asserted that "…it was a well-known fact that Fet's father, a Russian 1812 army officer, who was returning from Paris through Königsberg, met a Jewish beauty near Korchma, fell in love, bought her from her husband, took her to Russia and married her". According to another (advocated by the Russian women's magazine Sudarushka), Charlotta Elizabeth Becker came from an "ancient aristocratic family based in East Germany" while Johann Becker was an illegitimate son of Louis I, Grand Duke of Hesse, who insisted on Johann and Charlotta's marriage, making Afanasy Fet none other than the cousin of Maria Alexandrovna. Sudarushka calls Fet "the 3rd great German on the Russian Parnassus after Khemnitser and Küchelbecker". When Afanasy Fet was 14 years old, an official request came from Germany as to the details of his birth certificate. Discrepancies were revealed, and Oryol's consistory decided that from then on the boy should go by his German father's name and be stripped of all the privileges of nobility he otherwise would have had rights to. This was quite a traumatic experience for Afanasy who by this time completely identified himself with Shenshin and not Foeth. More controversy was added to the case by the fact that, while Shenshin admitted he indeed could not possibly be Afanasy's biological father, Johann Foeth back in Darmstadt refused to consider him his own son. As a result of the long and painful Shenshin-Foeth negotiations, the boy was finally given "the true Hesse-Darmstadt citizen" name of Afanasy Foeth. Even this rather humiliating outcome was a merciful alternative: otherwise, as an illegitimate child, he'd have fallen to the bottom of the Russian social hierarchy. Education and literary debut At the age of 14 Afanasy was sent to the Livonian town of Werro, where he was accepted (allegedly through the influence of Vasily Zhukovsky) into a German boarding school owned by a man named Krummer. While there he received a letter informing him that from then on his name was Foeth and not Shenshin; without a name, a family, a nationality or anything to hold on to, the teenager felt, in his own words, "like a dog who'd lost its master". It was this cruel transformation, scholars later opined, that accounted for all the idiosyncrasies and the totally pessimistic outlook of a man who spent most of his life contemplating suicide. Once, on a trip in the countryside at Werro, close to the Russian border, young Afanasy got off his horse, ran up to where the Russian land was supposed to begin, kneeled down and started to kiss the soil. These were the years, though, when the youngster was beginning to discover a poetic gift within himself; something to shield him from oppressive reality. "In quiet moments of total carelessness I was beginning to feel flowery spirals whirling inside of me, as if some unknown blossoming was coming to the surface. Each time only stems appeared, without any flowers on them. I scribbled verses on my slate desk and wiped them off, finding them unworthy", Fet wrote in his autobiography. In 1837 another change took place, this time much for the better. Fet's stepfather Afanasy Shenshin took the boy from the Krummer's institution and sent him to a boarding school in Moscow, owned by Mikhail Pogodin, a respected historian and professor at Moscow University. In the autumn of 1838 Fet enrolled in the University to study first the law, then philology. In his first year he started writing poetry (and produced quite a lot of it, Goethe, Heine and Yazykov being his major influences) and met Apollon Grigoriev, a fellow student and also an aspiring poet. "Aphonia and Apollosha", as the pair were known, became close friends. Soon Afansy moved to Grigoriev's house at Malaya Polyanka in Zamoskvoretchye and settled in a small room on the upper floor, often visited by friends, young Yakov Polonsky and future historian Sergey Solovyov among them. Later critics regarded Apollon Grigoriev's ideas and poetry technique (namely the romance-like structure and melodism) among Fet's major influences of the time. In the late 1830s Pogodin received some verses from the boy and gave them to Nikolay Gogol. "Undoubtedly gifted"; such was the verdict of the writer, and it did a lot to boost Fet's creativity, and prompted him to publish a book. It was in Apollon Grigoriev's room that the two friends compiled Fet's first collection, The Lyrical Pantheon (1840), signed "A.F." The book, in which the author began to develop a unique style of poetry dealing with the twin subjects of love and nature, caused only a slight stir, but was welcomed by some "thick journal" critics. In Otechestvennye zapiski young critic P.Kudryashov, Vissarion Belinsky's protégé, praised the debut, and his opinion was soon endorsed by Belinsky himself. For the next few years Belinsky continued to maintain that "of all the living Russian poets Fet is the most gifted". It was in Grigoriev's house that some of Fet's better known poetry was created, now signed A. Fet. This fuller signature first appeared in late 1841 under the poem called Poseidon, published by Otechestvennye zapiski. Later historians of literature argued whether it was due to a type-setter's mistake that the Russian letter ? (as in Foeth) in the poet's surname turned into e (as in Fet), but, according to Tarkhov, "this change was significant: in just one moment the name of a 'true Hesse-Darmstadt's citizen' was transformed into the pseudonym of a Russian poet". In 1842 Fet's poems started to appear regularly in Moskovityanin and Otechestvennye zapiski magazines, instantly making their author a literary sensation. One of the young poet's mentors was the Moskovityanin's editor Stepan Shevyryov, also a Moscow University professor, who often invited the young man to his home. Critics couldn't get enough of the young master, praising the "whiffs of joy" and "fragrant freshness" of his verse. Some of his poems were featured in the collection The Best of Russian Poetry compiled by Aleksey Galakhov in 1843. Don't wake her up at dawn..., put to music by Aleksander Varlamov, became the hit of the time. But for Fet those were troubled years. "Never in my life have I known a person so tormented by depression and for the life of whom I've been so worried. I greatly fear the possibility of him committing suicide. I've spent hours by his bedside, trying somehow to dispel the terrible, chaotic movements of his psyche... He had to either kill himself or become the sort of man he turned out to be later", Apollon Grigoriev wrote, referring to Fet's much talked about dichotomy, the poet and the real man coming across as totally different, conflicting personas. Military Service In 1844 Fet graduated from the University. This year he had to suffer two more heavy blows. First his uncle Pyotr Neofitovich Shenshin died. A large sum of money he prepared to transfer to the young man after his death has never been found. Later that year, after long suffering, mother Charlotta died of cancer. Early next year Afanasy Fet left Novosyolky estate forever: he went to the Kherson gubernia and on April 21, following the tradition of Shenshins, joined the Imperial Cuirassier regiment as a junior officer. Fet's goal was to retrieve the name and all the privileges of nobility he'd lost with it, and he indeed started to progress in ranking but the process was too slow: the nobility granting bar was being continuously risen too. The one thing Fet enjoyed in the army was discipline, everything else he loathed, complaining bitterly in his letters of utter cultural isolation and financial difficulties "bordering on poverty", calling his experience "life amongst monsters" when "once an hour a
29Afrodita Nikolova17(Stip, Macedonia)Afrodita Nikolova is an artist who writes poetry, fiction and experiments with playlets. Her first and only book of poetry won a prize on a poetry competition in honour of the late Macedonian poet Chedo Jakimovski and was published in Macedonian,2010. Other of her poems and works have appeared in magazines and The Anthology of Young Macedonian Avant-garde Poetry,2012. She is one of the editors of the literary booklet 'Sh' published jointly with the independent students' magazine 'Izlez' (Way Out) . She likes the theatre and all performing arts. Hence, she has so far performed in plays as a part of two amateur theatrical groups in Skopje. She has also run a Creative Writing workshop that resulted in a poetical/theatrical performance. She loves music and painting, and keeps old watercolours and dreams in her drawer. Recently, a guitar came by as a present, but has so far stayed locked in the dreams inside the drawer. She supports education, creativity, diversity and peaceful resolution of ethnic conflicts on the Balkan. Some of her essays concerning these issues have been published in „Izlez” and the Macedonian NGO magazine.Afrodita Nikolova's Published Books:„? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? “,2010, Macedonia
30aftab alam khursheed40(15/04/1967 / PRASTOLI, DORANDA, RANCHI, JHARKHAND, INDIA)Why can't you Gaddafi step down? <br>Let them taste their taste.. the choice.<br>Your voice is no more a voice, <br>Life is a chess-game<br>King also killed by the pawn.....
31Storrie, Agnes Louise2(1865 - 1936 / Glenelg)Agnes' father, James Storrie, was an accountant who moved to Adelaide in 1849 from Scotland, and lived on Mosely St, in Glenelg. In 1856 he married Agnes Tassie, who had also been born in Glasgow. They had ten children, Agnes Louisa being their sixth. Agnes lived a major part of her life at Glenelg, and was one of those who inaugurated the Congregational Church at Glenelg. She wrote short stories under the name of 'Senga', and ran a newspaper column, 'Home Topics' in Dalgety's Review (1907).
32Ogawa, Ai5(21 October 1947 - 20 March 2010 / Albany, Texas)Florence Anthony was a National Book Award winning American poet and educator who legally changed her name to Ai Ogawa. She won the National Book Award for Poetry for Vice. Ai, who has described herself as Japanese, Choctaw-Chickasaw, Black, Irish, Southern Cheyenne, and Comanche, was born in Albany, Texas in 1947, and she grew up in Tucson, Arizona. Raised also in Las Vegas and San Francisco, she majored in Japanese at the University of Arizona and immersed herself in Buddhism. Career She has received awards from the Guggenheim Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, and various universities; she has also been a frequent reader-performer of her work. Ai holds an M.F.A. from the University of California at Irvine. She is the author of Dread (W. W. Norton & Co., 2003); Vice (1999), which won the National Book Award for Poetry; Greed (1993); Fate (1991); Sin (1986), which won an American Book Award from the Before Columbus Foundation; Killing Floor (1979), which was the 1978 Lamont Poetry Selection of the Academy of American Poets; and Cruelty (1973). She has also received awards from the Guggenheim Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, and the Bunting Fellowship Program at Radcliffe College. She teaches at Oklahoma State University and lives in Stillwater, Oklahoma. Ai considers herself as "simply a writer" rather than a spokesperson for any particular group. Much of Ai's work was in the form of dramatic monologues. Regarding this tendency, Ai commented: "My writing of dramatic monologues was a happy accident, because I took so much to heart the opinion of my first poetry teacher, Richard Shelton, the fact that the first person voice was always the stronger voice to use when writing. What began as an experiment in that voice became the only voice in which I wrote for about twenty years. Lately, though, I've been writing poems and short stories using the second person, without, it seems to me, any diminution in the power of my work. Still, I feel that the dramatic monologue was the form in which I was born to write and I love it as passionately, or perhaps more passionately, than I have ever loved a man." She legally changed her name to "Ai," which means "love" in Japanese. She said "Ai is the only name by which I wish, and indeed, should be known. Since I am the child of a scandalous affair my mother had with a Japanese man she met at a streetcar stop, and I was forced to live a lie for so many years, while my mother concealed my natural father's identity from me, I feel that I should not have to be identified with a man, who was only my stepfather, for all eternity." Reading at the University of Arizona in 1972, Ai said this about her self-chosen name: "I call myself Ai because for a long time I didn't want to use my own name, I didn't like it... it means love in Japanese. But actually I was doing numerology, and A is one and I is ten and together they make eleven, and that means spiritual force and so that was the name I wanted to be under. And it also means the impersonal I, the I of the universe. I was trying to get rid of my ego. I can also write it as an Egyptian Hieroglyph." Death The Guggenheim- winning poet, died on March 20 at age 62, of complications from cancer, in Stillwater, Oklahoma.Ai Ogawa's Published Books:Cruelty (1973) Killing Floor (1979) Sin (1986) Fate (1991) Greed (1993) Vice: New and Selected Poems (1999) Dread: Poems (2004) Why Can't I Leave You? No Surrender ( 2010)
33Aida Erkihun6(Ethiopia)A young sociologist & poet.
34Aimanu Begum7A heaviness persists on my soul <br>like a foggy curtain in January morning.<br>Give me a little sunshine, <br>the sun refuses to rise in my sky<br>and clear the morning fog.<br><br>My soul feels stranded, <br>like a car in the middle of the road<br>in the heavy downpour of the summer rain.<br>
35ainan ahmad11(28-01-87 / india)i born in sadipur a small vilage of india and growup there.
36AISWARYA T ANISH (13 YRS)10(07/04/1997 / KARUNAGAPPALLY, MANGALAM, KERALA, INDIA)Hello, MY name is Aiswarya T Anish, studying in 8th standard in S.N Trusts Central School, Nangiarkulangara, Harippad, Alappuzha, Kerala, India. I am living at Arattupuzha, in a sea-side village where the tsunami waves washed up. I love to write and read poetry. I have written more than 400 poems and completed about 3 novels and carrying on with 5 in my mothertongue Malayalam and English.
37ajay srivastava27(28/08/1964 / new delhi)Writting poem in English as well as Hindi lanuage.
38ajitav basak8y do u think u r ill, <br>is it bcoz xam fear u feel.<br>is it bcoz u think too much abt marks, <br>or is it coz if u fail your future darks.<br><br>does dis mean, <br>it is true what we have in past seen.<br>student die boz of stress due to xam, <br>i suggest u dont do it fam...<br>
39Abu Hamid, Al-Ghazali1(1058 - 1111 / Tus)Abu Hamed Mohammad ibn Mohammad al-Ghazzali, known as Algazel to the western medieval world, born and died in Tus, in the Khorasan province of Persia (modern day Iran) was a Persian Muslim theologian, jurist, philosopher, and mystic. Ghazali has sometimes been referred to by historians as the single most influential Muslim after the Islamic prophet Muhammad. Others have cited his movement from science to faith as a detriment to Islamic scientific progress. Besides his work that successfully changed the course of Islamic philosophy—the early Islamic Neoplatonism developed on the grounds of Hellenistic philosophy, for example, was so successfully refuted by Ghazali that it never recovered—he also brought the orthodox Islam of his time in close contact with Sufism. The orthodox theologians still went their own way, and so did the mystics, but both developed a sense of mutual appreciation which ensured that no sweeping condemnation could be made by one for the practices of the other. Life Al-Ghazali was born in 1058 in Tus, a city in Khorasan province of Persia (Iran). His father, a traditional sufi, died when he and his younger brother, Ahmad Ghazali, were still young. One of their father's friends took care of them for the next few years. Later in 1070, Ghazali and his brother went to Gurgan to get enrolled in a madrassah. There, he studied fiqh (islamic jurisprudence) next to Ahmad ibn Muhammad Radkani and Abu'l Qasim Jurjani. After approximately 7 years of studying, he returned to Tus. His first important trip to Nishapur occurred around 1080 when he was almost 23 years old. He became the student of the famous Muslim scholar Abu'l Ma'ali Juwayni, known as Imam al-Haramayn. After the death of Al-Juwayni in 1085, Al-Ghazali was invited to go to the court of Nizamul Mulk Tusi, the powerful vizier of the Seljuq sultans. The vizier was so impressed by Al-Ghazali's scholarship that in 1091 he appointed him as chief professor in the Nizamiyya of Baghdad. He used to lecture to more than 300 students, and his participations in Islamic debates and discussions made him popular in all over the Islamic territories. He passed through a spiritual crisis in 1095 and abandoned his career and left Baghdad on the pretext of going on pilgrimage to Mecca. Making arrangements for his family, he disposed of his wealth and adopted the life of a poor Sufi. After some time in Damascus and Jerusalem, with a visit to Medina and Mecca in 1096, he settled in Tus to spend the next several years in seclusion. He ended his seclusion for a short lecturing period at the Nizamiyyah of Nishapur in 1106. Later he returned to Tus where he remained until his death in December, 1111. He had one son named Abdu'l Rahman Allam. School affiliations Al-Ghazali contributed significantly to the development of a systematic view of Sufism and its integration and acceptance in mainstream Islam. He was a scholar of orthodox Islam, belonging to the Shafi'i school of Islamic jurisprudence and to the Asharite school of theology. Ghazali received many titles such as Sharaful A'emma , Zainuddin, and Hujjatul Islam, meaning "Proof of Islam". He is viewed as the key member of the influential Asharite school of early Muslim philosophy and the most important refuter of Mutazilites. However, he chose a slightly different position in comparison with the Asharites; his beliefs and thoughts differ, in some aspects, from the orthodox Asharite school. Works Incoherence of the Philosophers His 11th century book titled The Incoherence of the Philosophers marks a major turn in Islamic epistemology. The encounter with skepticism led Ghazali to embrace a form of theological occasionalism, or the belief that all causal events and interactions are not the product of material conjunctions but rather the immediate and present will of God. The Incoherence also marked a turning point in Islamic philosophy in its vehement rejections of Aristotle and Plato. The book took aim at the falasifa, a loosely defined group of Islamic philosophers from the 8th through the 11th centuries (most notable among them Avicenna and Al-Farabi) who drew intellectually upon the Ancient Greeks. Ghazali bitterly denounced Aristotle, Socrates and other Greek writers as non-believers and labeled those who employed their methods and ideas as corrupters of the Islamic faith. In the next century, Averroes drafted a lengthy rebuttal of Ghazali's Incoherence entitled the Incoherence of the Incoherence; however, the epistemological course of Islamic thought had already been set. Autobiography The autobiography Ghazali wrote towards the end of his life, The Deliverer From Error (Al-munqidh min al-?alal; several English translations) is considered a work of major importance. In it, Ghazali recounts how, once a crisis of epistemological skepticism was resolved by "a light which God Most High cast into my breast...the key to most knowledge," he studied and mastered the arguments of kalam, Islamic philosophy, and Ismailism. Though appreciating what was valid in the first two of these, at least, he determined that all three approaches were inadequate and found ultimate value only in the mystical experience and insight (the state of prophecy or nubuwwa) he attained as a result of following Sufi practices. William James, in Varieties of Religious Experience, considered the autobiography an important document for "the purely literary student who would like to become acquainted with the inwardness of religions other than the Christian" because of the scarcity of recorded personal religious confessions and autobiographical literature from this period outside the Christian tradition. The Revival of Religious Sciences Another of Ghazali's major work is Ihya' Ulum al-Din or Ihya'u Ulumiddin (The Revival of Religious Sciences). It covers almost all fields of Islamic sciences: fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence), kalam (theology) and sufism. It contains four major sections: Acts of worship (Rub' al-'ibadat), Norms of Daily Life (Rub' al-'adatat), The ways to Perdition (Rub' al-muhlikat) and The Ways to Salvation (Rub' al-munjiyat). Many admirable comments were made regarding this book: "If all Islamic sciences were disappeared, they could be taken back from Ihya'u Ulumiddin." He then wrote a brief version of this book in Persian under The Alchemy of Happiness (Kimiya-yi sa'adat). The Jerusalem Tract At the insistence of his students in Jerusalem, Ghazali wrote a concise exposition of Islam entitled The Jerusalem Tract. Ghazali's influence Ghazali had an important influence on both Muslim philosophers and Christian medieval philosophers. Margaret Smith writes in her book Al-Ghazali: The Mystic (London 1944): "There can be no doubt that Al-Ghazali’s works would be among the first to attract the attention of these European scholars" (page 220). Then she emphasizes, "The greatest of these Christian writers who was influenced by Al-Ghazali was St. Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274), who made a study of the Arabic writers and admitted his indebtedness to them. He studied at the University of Naples where the influence of Arab literature and culture was predominant at the time." In addition, Aquinas' interest in Islamic studies could be attributed to the infiltration of ‘Latin Averroism’ in the 13th century, especially at [the University of] Paris. Ghazali's influence has been compared to the works of St. Thomas Aquinas in Christian theology, but the two differed greatly in methods and beliefs. Whereas Ghazali rejected non-Islamic philosophers such as Aristotle and saw it fit to discard their teachings on the basis of their "unbelief," Aquinas embraced them and incorporated ancient Greek and Latin thought into his own philosophical writings. Ghazali also played a very major role in integrating Sufism with Shariah. He combined the concepts of Sufism very well with the Shariah laws. He was also the first to present a formal description of Sufism in his works. His works also strengthened the status of Sunnite Islam against other schools. The Batinite (Ismailism) had emerged in Persian territories and were gaining more and more power during Ghazali's period, as Nizam al-Mulk was assassinated by the members of Ismailis. Ghazali strictly refuted their ideology and wrote several books on refutation of Baatinyas which significantly weakened their status. Works in Persian Al-Ghazali wrote most of his works in Arabic and few in Persian. His most important Persian work is Kimyayé Sa'adat (The Alchemy of Happiness). It is Al-Ghazali's own Persian version of Ihya'ul ulumuddin (The Revival of Religious Sciences) in Arabic, but a shorter work. It is one of the outstanding works of 11th-century-Persian literature. The book was published several times in Tehran by the edition of Hussain Khadev-jam, a renown Iranian scholar. It is translated to English, Arabic, Turkish, Urdu and other languages. Apart from Kimya, the most celebrated of Ghazali's works in Persian is Nasihatul Muluk (The Counseling Kings), written most probably for Sultan Ahmad Sanjar ibn Malekshah. In the edition published by Jalaluddin Humayi, the book consists of two parts of which only the first can reliably be attributed to Ghazali. The language and the contents of some passages are similar to the Kimyaye Sa'adat. The second part differs considerably in content and style from the well-known writings of Ghazali. It contains the stories of pre-Islamic kings of Persia, especially those of Anoshervan. Nasihatul Muluk was early translated to Arabic under the title al-Tibr al-masbuk fi nasihat al-muluk (The Forged Sword in Counseling Kings). Zad-e Akherat (Provision for the hereafter) is an important Persian book of Ghazali but gained less scholarly attention. The greater part of it consists of the Persian translation of one of his Arabic books, Bedayat al-Hedaya (Beginning of Guidance). It contains in addition the same contents as the Kimyayé Sa'adat. The book was most probably written during the last years of his life. Its manuscripts are in Kabul (Library of the Department of Press) and in Leiden. Pand-nama (Book of Counsel) is another book of advice and probably attributed to Sultan Sanjar. The introduction to the book relates that Ghazali wrote the book in response to a certain king who had asked him for advice. Ay farzand (O son!) is a short book of counsel that Ghazali wrote for one of his students. The book was early translated to Arabic entitled ayyuhal walad. His another Persian work is Hamaqati ahli ibahat or Raddi ebahiyya (Condemnation of antinomians) which is his fatwa in Persian illustrated with Quranic verses and Hadiths. Faza'ilul al-anam min rasa'ili hujjat al-Islam is the collection of letters in Persians that Ghazali wrote in response to the kings, ministers, jurists and some of his friends after he returned to Khorasan. The collection was gathered by one of his grandchildren after his death, under five sections/chapters. The longest letter is the response to objections raised against some of his statements in Mishkat al-Anwar (The Niche of Light) and al-Munqidh min al-dalal (Rescuer from Error). The first letter is the one which Ghazali wrote to Sultan Sanjar presenting his excuse for teaching in Nizamiyya of Nishapur; followed by Ghazali's speech in the court of Sultan Sanjar. Ghazali makes an impressing speech when he was taken to the king's court in Nishapur in 1106, giving very influential counsels, asking the sultan once again for excusing him from teaching in Nizamiyya and refuting the accusations made against him for disrespecting Imam Abu Hanifa in his books. The sultan was so impressed that ordered Ghazali to write down his speech so that it will be sent to all the ulemas of Khorasan and Iraq. Criticism Praise for al-Ghazali not withstanding, he also received criticism from within Islam: Ibn Taymiyyah states: “If we assume that someone narrated the view of the salaf but what he narrated is far removed from what the view of the salaf actually is, then he has little knowledge of the view of the salaf, such as Abu’l-Ma’aali, Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, Ibn al-Khateeb and the like, who did not have enough knowledge of hadith to qualify them as ordinary scholars of hadith, let alone as prominent scholars in that field. For none of these people had any knowledge of al-Bukhari and Muslim and their hadiths, apart from what they heard, which is similar to the situation of the ordinary Muslim, who cannot distinguish between a hadiith which is regarded as sahih and mutawatir according to the scholars of hadith, and a hadith which is fabricated and false. Their books bear witness to that, for they contain strange things and most of these scholars of ‘ilm al-kalam (science of kalam) and Sufis who have drifted away from the path of the salaf admit that, either at the time of death or before death. There are many such well-known stories. This Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, despite his brilliance, his devotion to Allah, his knowledge of kalam and philosophy, his asceticism and spiritual practices and his Sufism, ended up in a state of confusion and resorted to the path of those who claim to find out things through dreams and spiritual methods." Ibn Rushd (Averroes), a rationalist, famously responded that "to say that philosophers are incoherent is itself to make an incoherent statement." Rushd's book, The Incoherence of the Incoherence, attempted to refute Al-Ghazali's views, though the work was not well received in the Muslim community.Al-Ghazali Abu Hamid's Published Books:Theology al-Munqidh min al-dalal (Rescuer from Error) Hujjat al-Haq (Proof of the Truth) al-Iqtisad fil-i`tiqad (Median in Belief) al-maqsad al-asna fi sharah asma' Allahu al-husna (The best means in explaining Allah's Beautiful Names) Jawahir al-Qur'an wa duraruh (Jewels of the Qur'an and its Pearls) Fayasl al-tafriqa bayn al-Islam wa-l-zandaqa (The Criterion of Distinction between Islam and Clandestine Unbelief) Mishkat al-Anwar (The Niche of Lights) Tafsir al-yaqut al-ta'wil Sufism Mizan al-'amal (Criterion of Action) Ihya'ul ulum al-din, "Revival of Religious Sciences", Ghazali's most important work Bidayat al-hidayah (Beginning of Guidance) Kimiya-yi sa'adat (The Alchemy of Happiness) [a résumé of Ihya'ul ulum, in Persian] Nasihat al-muluk (Counseling Kings) [in Persian] al-Munqidh min al-dalal (Rescuer from Error) Minhaj al-'Abidin (Methodology for the Worshipers) Philosophy Maqasid al falasifa (Aims of Philosophers) [written in the beginning of his life, in favour of philosophy and presenting the basic theories in Philosophy, mostly influenced by Avicenna's works] Tahafut al-Falasifa (The Incoherence of the Philosophers), [in this book he refutes the Greek Philosophy aiming at Avicenna and Al-Farabi; and of which Ibn Rushd wrote his famous refutation Tahafut al-tahafut (The Incoherence of the Incoherence)] Miyar al-Ilm fi fan al-Mantiq (Criterion of Knowledge in the Art of Logic) Mihak al-Nazar fi al-mantiq (Touchstone of Reasoning in Logic) al-Qistas al-mustaqim (The Correct Balance) Jurisprudence Fatawy al-Ghazali (Verdicts of al-Ghazali) Al-wasit fi al-mathab (The medium [digest] in the Jurisprudential school) Kitab tahzib al-Isul (Pruning on Legal Theory) al-Mustasfa fi 'ilm al-isul (The Clarified in Legal Theory) Asas al-Qiyas (Foundation of Analogical reasoning)
40Milne, Alan Alexander52(18 January 1882 – 31 January 1956 / Kilburn, London)A. A. Milne was born in Kilburn, London, England to parents John Vine Milne and Sarah Maria (née Heginbotham) and grew up at Henley House School, 6/7 Mortimer Road (now Crescent), Kilburn, London, a small independent school run by his father. One of his teachers was H. G. Wells who taught there in 1889–90. Milne attended Westminster School and Trinity College, Cambridge, where he studied on a mathematics scholarship. While there, he edited and wrote for Granta, a student magazine. He collaborated with his brother Kenneth and their articles appeared over the initials AKM. Milne's work came to the attention of the leading British humour magazine Punch, where Milne was to become a contributor and later an assistant editor. Milne joined the British Army in World War I and served as an officer in the Royal Warwickshire Regiment and later, after a debilitating illness, the Royal Corps of Signals. After the war, he wrote a denunciation of war titled Peace with Honour (1934), which he retracted somewhat with 1940's War with Honour. During World War II, Milne was one of the most prominent critics of English humour writer P. G. Wodehouse, who was captured at his country home in France by the Nazis and imprisoned for a year. Wodehouse made radio broadcasts about his internment, which were broadcast from Berlin. Although the lighthearted broadcasts made fun of the Germans, Milne accused Wodehouse of committing an act of near treason by cooperating with his country's enemy. Wodehouse got some revenge on his former friend by creating fatuous parodies of the Christopher Robin poems in some of his later stories, and claiming that Milne "was probably jealous of all other writers.... But I loved his stuff." He married Dorothy "Daphne" de Sélincourt in 1913, and their only son, Christopher Robin Milne, was born in 1920. In 1925, A. A. Milne bought a country home, Cotchford Farm, in Hartfield, East Sussex. During World War II, A. A. Milne was Captain of the Home Guard in Hartfield & Forest Row, insisting on being plain 'Mr. Milne' to the members of his platoon. He retired to the farm after a stroke and brain surgery in 1952 left him an invalid, and by August 1953 "he seemed very old and disenchanted". Milne died in January 1956, aged 74. Literary Career 1903 to 1925 After graduating from Cambridge in 1903, A. A. Milne contributed humorous verse and whimsical essays to Punch, joining the staff in 1906 and becoming an assistant editor. During this period he published 18 plays and 3 novels, including the murder mystery The Red House Mystery (1922). His son was born in August 1920 and in 1924 Milne produced a collection of children's poems When We Were Very Young, which were illustrated by Punch staff cartoonist E. H. Shepard. A collection of short stories for children Gallery of Children, and other stories that became part of the Winnie-the-Pooh books, were first published in 1925. Milne was an early screenwriter for the nascent British film industry, writing four stories filmed in 1920 for the company Minerva Films (founded in 1920 by the actor Leslie Howard and his friend and story editor Adrian Brunel). These were The Bump, starring Aubrey Smith; Twice Two; Five Pound Reward; and Bookworms Some of these films survive in the archives of the British Film Institute. Milne had met Howard when the actor starred in Milne’s play Mr Pim Passes By in London. Looking back on this period (in 1926) Milne observed that when he told his agent that he was going to write a detective story, he was told that what the country wanted from a "Punch humorist" was a humorous story; when two years later he said he was writing nursery rhymes, his agent and publisher were convinced he should write another detective story; and after another two years he was being told that writing a detective story would be in the worst of taste given the demand for children's books. He concluded that "the only excuse which I have yet discovered for writing anything is that I want to write it; and I should be as proud to be delivered of a Telephone Directory con amore as I should be ashamed to create a Blank Verse Tragedy at the bidding of others." 1926 to 1928 Milne is most famous for his two Pooh books about a boy named Christopher Robin after his son, Christopher Robin Milne, and various characters inspired by his son's stuffed animals, most notably the bear named Winnie-the-Pooh. Christopher Robin Milne's stuffed bear, originally named "Edward", was renamed "Winnie-the-Pooh" after a Canadian black bear named Winnie (after Winnipeg), which was used as a military mascot in World War I, and left to London Zoo during the war. "The pooh" comes from a swan called "Pooh". E. H. Shepard illustrated the original Pooh books, using his own son's teddy, Growler ("a magnificent bear"), as the model. Other notable characters created by Milne include the bouncy Tigger and gloomy Eeyore. Christopher Robin Milne's own toys are now under glass in New York. The fictional Hundred Acre Wood of the Pooh stories derives from Five Hundred Acre Wood in Ashdown Forest in East Sussex, South East England, where the Pooh stories were set. Milne lived on the northern edge of the Forest and took his son walking there. E. H. Shepard drew on the landscapes of Ashdown Forest as inspiration for many of the illustrations he provided for the Pooh books. The adult Christopher Robin commented: "Pooh's Forest and Ashdown Forest are identical". The wooden Pooh Bridge in Ashdown Forest, where Pooh and Piglet invented Poohsticks, is a tourist attraction. Winnie-the-Pooh was published in 1926, followed by The House at Pooh Corner in 1928. A second collection of nursery rhymes, Now We Are Six, was published in 1927. All three books were illustrated by E. H. Shepard. Milne also published four plays in this period. He also "gallantly stepped forward" to contribute a quarter of the costs of dramatising P. G. Wodehouse's A Damsel in Distress. His book The World of Pooh won the Lewis Carroll Shelf Award in 1958. 1929 Onwards The success of his children's books was to become a source of considerable annoyance to Milne, whose self-avowed aim was to write whatever he pleased and who had, until then, found a ready audience for each change of direction: he had freed pre-war Punch from its ponderous facetiousness; he had made a considerable reputation as a playwright (like his idol J. M. Barrie) on both sides of the Atlantic; he had produced a witty piece of detective writing in The Red House Mystery (although this was severely criticised by Raymond Chandler for the implausibility of its plot). But once Milne had, in his own words, "said goodbye to all that in 70,000 words" (the approximate length of his four principal children's books), he had no intention of producing any reworkings lacking in originality, given that one of the sources of inspiration, his son, was growing older. His reception remained warmer in America than Britain, and he continued to publish novels and short stories, but by the late 1930s the audience for Milne's grown-up writing had largely vanished: he observed bitterly in his autobiography that a critic had said that the hero of his latest play ("God help it") was simply "Christopher Robin grown up...what an obsession with me children are become!". Even his old literary home, Punch, where the When We Were Very Young verses had first appeared, was ultimately to reject him, as Christopher Milne details in his autobiography The Enchanted Places, although Methuen continued to publish whatever Milne wrote, including the long poem 'The Norman Church' and an assembly of articles entitled Year In, Year Out (which Milne likened to a benefit night for the author). He also adapted Kenneth Grahame's novel The Wind in the Willows for the stage as Toad of Toad Hall. The title was an implicit admission that such chapters as Chapter 7, "The Piper at the Gates of Dawn", could not survive translation to the theatre. A special introduction written by Milne is included in some editions of Grahame's novel. Several of Milne's children's poems were set to music by the composer Harold Fraser-Simson. His poems have been parodied many times, including with the books When We Were Rather Older and Now We Are Sixty. The rights to the Pooh books were left to four beneficiaries: his family, the Royal Literary Fund, Westminster School and the Garrick Club. After Milne's death in 1956, his widow sold her rights to the Pooh characters to the Walt Disney Company, which has made many Pooh cartoon movies, a Disney Channel television show, as well as Pooh-related merchandise. In 2001, the other beneficiaries sold their interest in the estate to the Disney Corporation for $350m. Previously Disney had been paying twice-yearly royalties to these beneficiaries. The estate of EH Shepard also received a sum in the deal. The copyright on Pooh expires in 2026. A memorial plaque in Ashdown Forest, unveiled by Christopher Robin in 1979, commemorates the work of A. A. Milne and Shepard in creating the world of Pooh. Milne once wrote of Ashdown Forest: "In that enchanted place on the top of the forest a little boy and his bear will always be playing". Religious Views Milne did not speak out much on the subject of religion, although he used religious terms to explain his decision, while remaining a pacifist, to join the army: "In fighting Hitler", he wrote, "we are truly fighting the Devil, the Anti-Christ ... Hitler was a crusader against God." His best known comment on the subject was recalled on his death: "The Old Testament is responsible for more atheism, agnosticism, disbelief—call it what you will—than any book ever written; it has emptied more churches than all the counter-attractions of cinema, motor bicycle and golf course." He also wrote: Elizabeth Ann Said to her Nan “Please will you tell me how God began? Somebody must have made Him. So Who could it be, ‘cos I want to know?” — A.A. Milne's poem "Explained"Alan Alexander Milne's Published Books:Novels Lovers in London(1905) Once on a Time (1917) Mr. Pim (1921) The Red House Mystery (1922) Two People (1931) Four Days' Wonder (1933) Chloe Marr (1946) Non-fiction Peace With Honour (1934) It's Too Late Now: The Autobiography of a Writer (1939) War With Honour (1940) Year In, Year Out (1952) (illustrated by E. H. Shepard) Punch Articles The Day's Play (1910) Once A Week (book) (1914) The Holiday Round (1912) The Sunny Side (1921) Those Were the Days (1929) [The four volumes above, compiled] Newspaper Articles and Book Introductions The Chronicles of Clovis by "Saki" (1911) [Introduction to] Not That It Matters (1920) By Way of Introduction (1929) Story Collections for Children Gallery of Children (1925) Winnie-the-Pooh (1926) (illustrated by E. H. Shepard) The House at Pooh Corner (1928) (illustrated by E. H. Shepard) Short Stories Poetry Collections for Children When We Were Very Young Now We Are Six Story Collections The Birthday Party (1948) A Table Near the Band (1950) Poetry For the Luncheon Interval [poems from Punch] When We Were Very Young (1924) (illustrated by E. H. Shepard) Now We Are Six (1927) (illustrated by E. H. Shepard) Behind the Lines (1940) The Norman Church (1948) Screenplays Milne wrote 4 stories filmed in 1920 for Minerva Films: The Bump (starring Aubrey Smith) Twice Two Five Pound Reward Bookworms Plays Milne wrote over 30 plays, including: Wurzel-Flummery (1917) Belinda (1918) The Boy Comes Home (1918) Make-Believe (1918) (children's play) The Camberley Triangle (1919) Mr. Pim Passes By (1919) The Red Feathers (1920) The Romantic Age (1920) The Stepmother (1920) The Truth about Blayds (1920) The Dover Road (1921) The Great Broxopp (1921) The Lucky One (1922) The Artist: A Duologue (1923) Give Me Yesterday (1923) (a.k.a. Success in the U.K.) Ariadne (1924) The Man in the Bowler Hat: A Terribly Exciting Affair (1924) To Have the Honour (1924) Portrait of a Gentleman in Slippers (1926) Success (1926) Miss Marlow at Play (1927) The Fourth Wall or The Perfect Alibi (1928) The Ivory Door (1929) Toad of Toad Hall (1929) (adaptation of The Wind in the Willows) Michael and Mary (1930) Other People's Lives (1933) (a.k.a. They Don't Mean Any Harm) Miss Elizabeth Bennet (1936) [based on Pride and Prejudice] Sarah Simple (1937) Gentleman Unknown (1938) The General Takes Off His Helmet (1939) in The Queen's Book of the Red Cross The Ugly Duckling (1946) Before the Flood (1951)
41Dugan, Alan23(12 February 1923 - 3 September 2003 / New York City, New York)Alan Dugan was an American poet. His poetry is known for its plain and direct language, though it is supported by technical skill; it is generally trenchant and ironic in its criticism of American life and received ideas, and in its frank sensuality alike. Dugan grew up in Jamaica, Queens in New York City and served in World War II, experiences which entered his poetry though he avoided simple autobiography or confession. He later lived in Truro on Cape Cod in Massachusetts, where he directed the Fine Arts Work Center and was a mentor and teacher to younger poets for decades. Dugan's work was published in successive numbered collections under the simple title Poems. Alan Dugan was married to the artist Judith Shahn. He died on September 3, 2003, of pneumonia at age 80.Alan Dugan's Published Books:Poems (1961) Poems 2 (1963) Poems 3 (1967) Poems 4 (1974) Poems Five: New and Collected Poems (1983) Poems Six (1989) Poems Seven: New and Complete Poetry (2001)
42Alan Halford5(DUBLIN)What could walls tell now of Dylan Thomas<br>speak to me of love and death<br>of madness of a kind he sometimes knew <br>beneath the paper cracks of genius<br><br>nothing left in his decay only<br>ghostly words once played so well <br>on an old typewriter with some letters lost<br>and he blunted by another whisky <br>
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