Funeral Blues Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good.
W.H. Auden
Related He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, ... W.H. AUDEN The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; P... W.H. AUDEN Let my silence grow with noise as pregnant mothers grow with life. Let my silence permea... KAMAND KOJOURI What do you think of when you think of mourning?' Jenny asks. The question snaps me back to att... STEVEN ROWLEY BLUE SWEATER Bom Bom... Bom Bom... Bom Bom... Do you hear tha... COLLEEN HOOVER Ego Tripping I was born in the congo I walked to the fertile crescent and bui... NIKKI GIOVANNI Love entered in my heart one day A sad, unwelcome guest. But when it begged that it might ... J. CALIFORNIA COOPER i let myself know that my life doesn't have to be over just because AMANDA LOVELACE Let my toes teach the shore how to feel a tranquil life through the wetness of sands MUNIA KHAN My country, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing; Land where my father... 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I walk alone; The midnight street Spins itself from under my feet; My eyes sh... SYLVIA PLATH Another snowball, this time it impacted on my shoulder. I dusted the snow off my coat wi... KARINA HALLE i am in need of a sudden Shift, Your crimson lips. screaming at my Lips. Let me hold down ... SYED MURTAZA HAROON Penelope In the pathway of the sun, In the footsteps of the breeze, Where the... DOROTHY PARKER WHO AM I? I have seven heavenly panels Leading up to a pointed sphere I’m mul... SUZY KASSEM My friend once told me she liked this guy because of his hands And I found it absurd that ... CAROL SHLYAKHOVA Watch, how the sun slowly rises from behind my ear new lines, new countries SANOBER KHAN Hope dangles on a string Like slow spinning redemption Winding in and winding out The sh... DASHBOARD CONFESSIONAL I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; <... 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CHARLES BUKOWSKI I threw away my phone I thought that you should know I'd throw away my home If I had som... ASHLEE SIMPSON I opened a book and in I strode. Now nobody can find me. I've left my chair, my house, my ... JULIA DONALDSON That time I thought I could not go any closer to grief without dying I wen... MARY OLIVER I love my mother. My mother loves my dad. Those two facts are undeniable. JOHNA PASSARO When I Am Dead, My Dearest When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for... CHRISTINA ROSSETTI From childhood's hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I cou... EDGAR ALLAN POE Your flag and my flag,
And how it flies to-day
In your land and my land
And half a wo... WILBUR D. NESBIT Is it odd, my love, that I envy others who have not met you for the intoxication t... KAMAND KOJOURI You blast me open and then You stand back and watch My feeble attempts To deal wit... KATE MCGAHAN I have spent so many nights out under the stars Euphoria running through my veins and alcohol c... MORRIS R. GATES BLACK AND WHITE I was born into A religion of Light, But with so many oth... SUZY KASSEM I got schooled this yearby a boy . A boy that I'm seriously, dee... COLLEEN HOOVER I PAINT MY FACE. By Omrane Khuder. Mirror, distorted; I sit, paint my Face, Tox... OMRANE KHUDER I breathe in... the fragrance of love, and moist sand the one his roses left SANOBER KHAN Heartland Now that we’ve given our hearts away With the bric-a-brac, we want them... LISEL MUELLER My name is Olivia King I am five years old. My mother bought me a balloon. I r... COLLEEN HOOVER We try a new drug, a new combination of drugs, and suddenly I fall into my life again JANE KENYON COMING FORTH INTO THE LIGHT I was born the day I thought: What is? What wa... SUZY KASSEM The stars are brilliant at this time of night and I wander these streets like a ritual I don�... CHARLOTTE ERIKSSON Yawn... I believe that I love sleep much more than anybody I’ve ever met. CHARLES BUKOWSKI Everything I have become, everything I will ever accomplish cannot compare to my most KAMAND KOJOURI Do you remember how the sun, set On the occasion, we last conversed? First, it hid b... ZUBAIR AHSAN This is one hell of a suicide note. THE SUICIDE SOLILOQUY- Yes! I've resolved the de... SETH GRAHAME-SMITH A Second Childhood.” When all my days are ending And I have no song to sing, ... G.K. CHESTERTON Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size<... MAYA ANGELOU Reaction time Touch the underside of a penny you find on the street Doesn't fe... DAVE MATTHES you were and always will be that first ever touch to have fertilized the g... SANOBER KHAN I cry often. I cry and cleanse my face with my tears and swim to the center ... A.P. SWEET Let my heiress have full rights, Live in my house, sing songs that I composed. Yet how slo... ANNA AKHMATOVA Everything is temporary, almost like a passing fase, some of laughter Some of pain... NIKKI ROWE I have no idea how he knows when I need him. We can go weeks without speaking, and then, when my blu... DAVID LEVITHAN Acquainted with the Night I have been one acquainted with the night. I have w... ROBERT FROST I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: "The night is full of ... PABLO NERUDA I went back to the clanging city, I went back where my old loves stayed, But my heart wa... SARA TEASDALE I've lost myself..." "...since I found us." "My God's upset,renounced my faith..." ".... DR. KARAN M PAI
More W.H. Auden
We are all here on earth to help others; what on earth the others are here for I don't know. W.H. AUDEN A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language. W.H. AUDEN If equal affection cannot be, Let the more loving one be me. W.H. AUDEN To make one, there must be two. W.H. AUDEN The way to read a fairy tale is to throw yourself in. W.H. AUDEN A child's reading is guided by pleasure, but his pleasure is undifferentiated; he cannot distinguish... W.H. AUDEN And none will hear the postman’s knock Without a quickening of the heart. For who can be... W.H. AUDEN Some books are undeservedly forgotten; none are undeservedly remembered. W.H. AUDEN Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry. W.H. AUDEN Christmas and Easter can be subjects for poetry, but Good Friday, like Auschwitz, cannot. The realit... W.H. AUDEN Among those whom I like or admire, I can find no common denominator, but among those whom I love, I ... W.H. 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AUDEN Geniuses are the luckiest of mortals because what they must do is the same as what they most want to... W. H. AUDEN No human being is innocent, but there is a class of innocent human actions called Games. W. H. AUDEN Funeral Blues W. H. AUDEN Literary confessors are contemptible, like beggars who exhibit their sores for money, but not so con... W. H. AUDEN One cannot walk through an assembly factory and not feel that one is in Hell. W. H. AUDEN Healing, Papa would tell me, is not a science, but the intuitive art of wooing nature. W. H. AUDEN And none will hear the postman's knock Without a quickening of the heart. For who can bear to ... W. H. AUDEN Every autobiography is concerned with two characters, a Don Quixote, the Ego, and a Sancho Panza, th... W. H. AUDEN All poets adore explosions, thunderstorms, tornadoes, conflagrations, ruins, scenes of spectacular c... W. H. AUDEN It is... axiomatic that we should all think of ourselves as being more sensitive than other people b... W. H. AUDEN Fame often makes a writer vain, but seldom makes him proud. W. H. AUDEN May it not be that, just as we have to have faith in Him, God has to have faith in us and, consideri... W. H. AUDEN My face looks like a wedding-cake left out in the rain. W. H. AUDEN Every European visitor to the United States is struck by the comparative rarity of what he would cal... W. H. AUDEN Aphorisms are essentially an aristocratic genre of writing. The aphorist does not argue or explain, ... W. H. AUDEN The countenances of children, like those of animals, are masks, not faces, for they have not yet dev... W. H. AUDEN Nobody knows what the cause is, though some pretend they do; it like some hidden assassin waiting to... W. H. AUDEN Cancer is a curious thing... Nobody knows what the cause is, Though some pretend they do; I... W. H. AUDEN I cannot accept the doctrine that in poetry there is a suspension of belief. A poet must never make ... W. H. AUDEN It is a sad fact about our culture that a poet can earn much more money writing or talking about his... W. H. AUDEN Poetry makes nothing happen. It survives in the valley of its saying. W. H. AUDEN Rhymes, meters, stanza forms, etc., are like servants. If the master is fair enough to win their aff... W. H. AUDEN As a poet there is only one political duty, and that is to defend one's language against corruption.... W. H. AUDEN You must go to bed with friends or whores, where money makes up the difference in beauty or desire. W. H. AUDEN Almost all of our relationships begin and most of them continue as forms of mutual exploitation, a m... W. H. AUDEN A daydream is a meal at which images are eaten. Some of us are gourmets, some gourmands, and a good ... W. H. AUDEN But in seven weeks it was done, the frontiers decided. A continent for better or worse divided. W. H. AUDEN If the most significant characteristic of man is the complex of biological needs he shares with all ... W. H. AUDEN Some writers confuse authenticity, which they ought always to aim at, with originality, which they s... W. H. AUDEN No poet or novelist wishes he were the only one who ever lived, but most of them wish they were the ... W. H. AUDEN The Americans are violently oral. That's why in America the mother is all-important and the father h... W. H. AUDEN God bless the USA, so large, so friendly, and so rich. W. H. AUDEN The actors today really need the whip hand. They're so lazy. They haven't got the sense of pride in ... W. H. AUDEN The critical opinions of a writer should always be taken with a large grain of salt. For the most pa... W. H. AUDEN Criticism should be a casual conversation. W. H. AUDEN All works of art are commissioned in the sense that no artist can create one by a simple act of will... W. H. AUDEN Now is the age of anxiety. W. H. AUDEN The ear tends to be lazy, craves the familiar, and is shocked by the unexpected: the eye, on the ot... W. H. AUDEN A professor is one who talks in someone else's sleep. W H AUDEN It takes little talent to see clearly what lies under one's nose, a good deal of it to know in whi... W. H. AUDEN Perhaps there is only one cardinal sin: impatience. Because of impatience we were driven out of Pa... W. H. AUDEN One cannot review a bad book without showing off. W. H. AUDEN A poet's hope: to be, like some valley cheese, local, but prized elsewhere. W. H. AUDEN All sins tend to be addictive, and the terminal point of addiction is damnation. W. H. AUDEN I'll love you, dear, I'll love you till China and Africa meet and the river jumps over the m... W. H. AUDEN We all have these places where shy humiliations gambol on sunny afternoons. W. H. AUDEN We are all here on earth to help others; what on earth the others are here for I don't know. W. H. AUDEN A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language. W. H. AUDEN The class distinctions proper to a democratic society are not those of rank or money, still less, as... W. H. AUDEN History is, strictly speaking, the study of questions; the study of answers belongs to anthropology ... W. H. AUDEN When I am in the company of scientists, I feel like a shabby curate who has strayed by mistake into ... W. H. AUDEN He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, ... W. H. AUDEN Perhaps there is only one cardinal sin: impatience. Because of impatience we were driven out of Pa... W. H. AUDEN To save your world you asked this man to die; Would this man, could he see you now, ask why? W. H. AUDEN No opera plot can be sensible, for people do not sing when they are feeling sensible. W. H. AUDEN False enchantment can last a lifetime. W. H. AUDEN Evil is unspectacular and always human, And shares our bed and eats at our own table. W. H. AUDEN When the Sex War ended with the slaughter of the Grandmothers, / They found a bachelor's baby suffoc... W. H. AUDEN