"herrick" poems
"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
To-morrow will be dying. "
Robert Herrick
Ang buhay ng tao ay sadyang maiksi at walang tibay, katulad lang ito sa kastilyong buhangin na agad gumuguho sa hampas ng alon at ihip ng hangin. Kaya marapat lang na ito ay ating samantalahin habang may panahon pa, hindi dapat na masayang ang bawat sandali ‘pagkat hindi na ito muling magbabalik pa.
Bakit ka nagsusumiksik sa isang tabi at nagmumukmok? Walang saysay ang maging malungkot sapagkat sandali lang itong ating buhay. Tumindig ka at gawin mo kung ano ang nararapat, piliin mo ang maging maligaya at kapakipakinabang. Tuklasin mo ang pilosopiya at kahulugan ng iyong sariling buhay nang hindi umaasa sa iba.
Kumawala ka sa tanikala ng mga maling akala at walang kwentang panukala, ang mga patakaran ay mga paraan upang ang tao ay alipinin kaya hindi ito dapat na tanggapin. Maging hari ka at panginoon ng sarili **** buhay sa ganitong paraan ka lang magiging totoong hayahay.
Huwag **** lingunin ng paulit-ulit ang kahapon dahil kahit anong gawin mo hindi na ito muling magbabalik pa, walang time machine na maghahatid saiyo pabalik sa nakaraan.
Huwag mo rin masyadong tanawin ang malayong hinaharap pagkat baka nga hindi mo na makita ang bukas na iyong pinapangarap.
Ang “ngayon” ang tanging panahon na iyong hawak at wala ka nang ibang mapanghahawakan pa. Ipagdiwang mo ang bawat ngayon na parang ito na ang huling araw mo.
Huwag kang makinig sa mga sinasabi ng iba sa halip ang puso mo ang iyong sundin at umasa ka na hindi ka nito kailanman ililigaw, gamitin mo ito na ilaw **** gabay.
At huwag **** sayangin ang nalalabi **** panahon, umahon ka mula sa iyong pagkakabaon at magsimula ka.
Katulad sa mabango at magandang bulaklak na iyong nakikita ang buhay **** tunay ngang maikli ay malalanta at mawawalan rin ng sigla kaya’t bago ka pumanaw gawin **** makasaysayan ang iyong bawat ngayon.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 10:19 PM UTC
A house that lacks, seemingly, mistress and master,
With doors that none but the wind ever closes,
Its floor all littered with glass and with plaster;
It stands in a garden of old-fashioned roses.
I pass by that way in the gloaming with Mary;
‘I wonder,’ I say, ‘who the owner of those is.’
‘Oh, no one you know,’ she answers me airy,
‘But one we must ask if we want any roses.’
So we must join hands in the dew coming coldly
There in the hush of the wood that reposes,
And turn and go up to the open door boldly,
And knock to the echoes as beggars for roses.
‘Pray, are you within there, Mistress Who-were-you?’
’Tis Mary that speaks and our errand discloses.
‘Pray, are you within there? Bestir you, bestir you!
’Tis summer again; there’s two come for roses.
‘A word with you, that of the singer recalling—
Old Herrick: a saying that every maid knows is
A flower unplucked is but left to the falling,
And nothing is gained by not gathering roses.’
We do not loosen our hands’ intertwining
(Not caring so very much what she supposes),
There when she comes on us mistily shining
And grants us by silence the boon of her roses.
2.6k
Carpe Diem
funny boy
did you wait
till it was too late
hurry hurry
worry worry
you took life
in big giant bites
and then had to stop
to break
only when you
defeated yourself
hurry hurry
worry worry
but even then
after breaking
you got up and overcame
your life and art were amazing and never the same
race hard then fall or stall
and then
once again
get up
and give it your all
you did it
again and again
be extraordinary
hurry hurry
worry worry
never the same
look how you overcame
Good Will Hunting
Dead Poets
Jumanji
Mork from Ork
Patch Adams
Awakenings with De Niro
Aladdin
Death to Smoochy
Insomnia
Peter Pan
Mrs Doubtfire
Good Morning Vietnam
Jakob the Liar
hurry hurry
worry worry
I have to stop
not because I am out of art
there are many more
but because my fingers
are tired of typing titles
Peter Pan
you stayed young
fought the dark
and won many triumphs
again and again
hurry hurry
worry worry
you ran an amazing race
and a pace for two lifetimes
in the end the dark caught you
but you left behind
a mark of amazing art
"gather ye rosebuds while ye may" - Robert Herrick
Carpe Diem
Rest funny man
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
Julia, when thy Herrick dies,
Close thou up thy poet’s eyes;
And his last breath, let it be
Taken in by none but thee.
2k
Caaaarpe
…
caaarpe
...
Caarpe Diem
Keating whispered
He whispered.
in Delay there lies no plenty
Shakespeare warned,
gather ye rosebuds while ye may
Herrick advised.
We don’t
whisper, warn or advise
Generation Y
PROCLAIMS!
We shout, strong, sure and proud
YOLO
We chant, graffiti, hastag
YOLO
We get
*one shot one opportunity
to seize everything in we ever wanted in one moment*
**** the romantics,.
The critics, the experts, the analyzers too.
YOLO
Who says we can’t be prophetic,
Philosophical,
Beautiful?
This is us,
Our time
our chance,
so
let’s make the most of the night like we’re gunna die young.
It is our excuse.
The reason I hit the gas
rev the engine and slam it to the floor.
With squealing tires,
loud exhausts and smoky exits
You can hear me
we are young so lets set the world on fire we can burn brighter than the sun.
We need to do this now,
before the light in our eyes,
light of our lives,
go out.
YOLO
The reason we face mountains
of debt with a smile.
The face we put on
brave, ready, awake
when the bill collectors call,
the healthcare goes into reform
and the government shuts down.
YOLO
This moment, we own it
this second in a catalogue
of years.
The months we spend crashing cars, bars and acting like stars.
YOLO
The reason we apply for jobs,
we’ll never get.
Taking rejection with a grin
we will always try again.
YOLO
it is the reason I joined the race.
After all,
You.
Only.
Live.
Once.
-Kayla Morrison
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
I have been wanton and too bold, I fear,
To chafe o’ermuch the virgin’s cheek or ear.
Beg for my pardon, Julia: he doth win
Grace with the gods who’s sorry for his sin.
That done, my Julia, dearest Julia, come
And go with me to choose my burial room:
My fates are ended; when thy Herrick dies,
Clasp thou his book, then close thou up his eyes.
1.6k
If, dear Anthea, my hard fate it be
To live some few sad hours after thee,
Thy sacred corse with odours I will burn
And with my laurel crown thy golden urn.
Then holding up there such religious things
As were time past, thy holy filletings,
Near to thy reverend pitcher I will fall
Down dead for grief, and end my woes withal:
So three in one small plot of ground shall lie—
Anthea, Herrick, and his poetry.
1.4k
“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may”
And while that may be compelling to some
I would rather wait several years worth of days
Than go to bed with just anyone
Because my convictions transcend my flesh
As my unknown beloved now treads
So I can bear prolonged loneliness
While I lie in my twin sized bed
*** is much deeper than skin grazing skin
It’s the beauty of souls intertwined
Mr. Herrick, your message, received by most men
Makes broken people, hollow and blind
At risk of dying with innocence in tact
I will reject your assertion that virgins must act
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC
Poetry is the heartbeat of life;
Each poem develops us from existence to experience.
It is the answer to all forms of strife,
For every single word written
Delivers an unspoken truth by the giver.
It acts as if it is the logic behind literature
A fire driven by the desire of every creature.
To make up the pavement on the road less traveled by,
To not just gather roses but make use of them,
To realize that the fault is not in the stars, but in us,
To not be resigned in living a life of quiet desperation.
Robert Frost, Robert Herrick, William Shakespeare and Henry David Thoreau,
They are noble men.
They are poets.
They have understood that poetry sustains life.
Poetry is a noble pursuit.
It is needed to sustain life
Thus it develops us to a greater form of humans
We are slaves to its will
For we merely not write poetry;
For it is poetry which writes us.
An Ode To Poets,
To honour them for their noble deeds.
An Ode To Poets,
To live by their noble deeds.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 2:12 AM UTC
Make the most of the time you've got girl,
for before you know it
Life will have passed you by.
There you will stand,
Having lost even the chance to wave goodbye
To those days you knew as your prime.
Days sweep endlessly by
And the wind sweeps the trees.
The rain drips on down
Until the sky lets up,
Until the clouds bow out
Leaving a bright night sky.
So take your chance, take it now.
Make your stand, make it proud.
Love life, live strong, never hesitate,
The best and worst will be gone
By the time you move again.
Take your chances when they come
And bow out with your sun,
Leaving with a setting that puts all in awe.
Make the most of life girl
Before you've left it wasted and gone.
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 1:26 AM UTC
Robert Herrick,
Poet and cleric,
Wrote numbers that were noble
When they weren't ignoble.
Sep 20, 2024
Sep 20, 2024 at 3:30 PM UTC
A BIRD IN HAND & ‘CARPE DIEM’
It has been wisely observed and said,
That a bird in hand is worth two in the
bush always.
Therefore, let us grab this day before it
begins to slip away my friends!
The Afghans are perhaps the only people
in the world who pray after their meal!
Since they are more concerned about the
outcome, -
Than the intentions the behind things!
Just as the proof of the pudding always
remains in its eating!
Now the Latin phrase ‘Carpe Diem’ meaning
‘seize the day’, - has been a popular theme of
English poetry even to this day!
It was first used by the Roman poet Horace in
his ‘Odes’ during 23 BC,
Which spoke of enjoying the day before it
ceases to exist!
This theme is also found in Shakespeare’s sonnets;
In Robert Herrick’s lines ‘To the Virgins to Make
Much of Time’; in Andrew Marvell’s seductive
lyric ‘To His Coy Mistress’; and also in poems of
AE Houseman, and Robert Frost, - among many
other poets.
Here are few lines from Andrew Marvell’s seductive
lyric - ‘To His Coy Mistress’:-
“But at my back I always hear
Time’s wingéd chariot hurrying near:
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found;
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song: then worms shall try
That long-preserved virginity!
And your quaint honor turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace!”
Now I conclude with few lines from my
favorite Henry Wordsworth Longfellow’s
poem - ‘The Psalm of Life’:
“.…Trust no future however pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, act, in the living Present.
Heart within, and God overhead!
Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing leave behind us,
Footprints on the sands of time!…”
-Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
composed on 03 JULY 2020.
Jul 9, 2020
Jul 9, 2020 at 12:08 AM UTC