Tag Archives: Poem

The Seed Shop

Secret Gardener

hugo de vriesHugo Marie de Vries ForMemRS (February, 1848 – May, 1935)

The Seed Shop

Here in a quiet and dusty room they lie,
Faded as crumbled stone or shifting sand,
Forlorn as ashes, shrivelled, scentless, dry –
Meadows and gardens running through my hand.

In this brown husk a dale of hawthorn dreams;
A cedar in this narrow cell is thrust
That will drink deeply of a century’s streams;
These lilies shall make summer on my dust.

Here in their safe and simple house of death,
Sealed in their shells, a million roses leap;
Here I can blow a garden with my breath,
And in my hand a forest lies asleep.

Muriel Stuart Irwin (1885 — 1967)

View original post


A Poem of Belief by a Jewish Prisoner in a Nazi Concentration Camp


I thought I’d share this poem that I found on the internet. It was written during WW2, on the wall of a cellar, by a Jew in the Cologne concentration camp.

“I believe in the sun
even when it is not shining
And I believe in love,
even when there’s no one there.
And I believe in God,
even when he is silent.

I believe through any trial,
there is always a way
But sometimes in this suffering
and hopeless despair
My heart cries for shelter,
to know someone’s there
But a voice rises within me, saying hold on
my child, I’ll give you strength,
I’ll give you hope. Just stay a little while.

I believe in the sun
even when it is not shining
And I believe in love
even when there’s no one there
But I believe in God
even when he is silent
I believe through any…

View original post 28 more words

We Will Remember Them

Madkentdragon's Blog

“We will remember them”, how many times have you heard those words?

Watch the Royal British Legion Festival of Remembrance, the Remembrance Service at the Cenotaph or attend a local Remembrance Service and you will hear the “Exhortation”; 

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

But did you know that these words come from a poem by Laurence Binyon called “For the Fallen” written in 1919?  And do you think that these people are only remembering the death of the WWI troops?

But wait a minute, someone is now saying something else – what did he say?  Oh yes it was:

“When You Go Home, Tell Them Of Us And Say, 
For Their Tomorrow, We Gave Our Today”

Now where did…

View original post 489 more words


Reblogged with kind permission.

Nathan B. Poetry

FullSizeRender (9)

The rain to us is life from above
But what if they were the tears from above?
From those long gone and those in our thoughts
From our past brothers and sisters that are now long gone
The tears on the glass are a witness to this
There they stain the glass with those thoughts from above
Oh to hear what each drop could pronounce
A journey long awaited to drop on us
The tears from above is the way I see them
Calling us today to remember their names
The tears from above are for me to remember
In times lapse of wonders will I never forget
And when you see those tears from above
Those that we call rain
Just remember the name
Of those gone before as they watch from above
And give a thought from what comes from above
And never forget the tears from above

View original post 11 more words

“The Changeling” – Charlotte Mary Mew

Linda Catherine

Toll no bell for me, dear Father dear Mother, 
Waste no sighs; 
There are my sisters, there is my little brother 
Who plays in the place called Paradise, 
Your children all, your children for ever; 
But I, so wild, 
Your disgrace, with the queer brown face, was never, 
Never, I know, but half your child! 

In the garden at play, all day, last summer, 
Far and away I heard 
The sweet “tweet-tweet” of a strange new-comer, 
The dearest, clearest call of a bird. 
It lived down there in the deep green hollow, 
My own old home, and the fairies say 
The word of a bird is a thing to follow, 
So I was away a night and a day. 

One evening, too, by the nursery fire, 
We snuggled close and sat round so still, 
When suddenly as the wind blew higher, 
Something scratched on the window-sill, 
A pinched brown face…

View original post 407 more words

Listen to the silence


Listen to the quiet – there is no traffic here.

Neighbours are at work.

You can hear yourself think.

You are never alone on your own.

You have your self for company.

In the city noise divorces you from yourself

leaving you bereft.

Listening to the quiet the space just grows inside,

expands your mind,

removing walls in space and time.

All this is mine.

But in the town walls

of noise cage and surround,

beating you down.

Listen to the quiet.

Your life is your own,

nothing surrounds,

freedom abounds.


Copyright 2015 Prayerwarriorpsychicnot