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Poems On / About COURAGE  3/4/2015 2:32:34 AM
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  117.     

Pained Memories

Je suis toujours malade
et sans courage
I am still sick,
without courage

A meetin' with despair
The clock, sand and water
Epitaph: Je reste avec vous
But I'm strugglin' to stay with you

Get this dream unstuck now
Free from the prattle of
reality
Forget about
the tickin' clock
The explosive words fall,
vengefully eternal,
wave upon wave,
through the variations,
through sands of time

Except for you
nothin' matters

Sweet-scented destruction
Eloquence of despair
Empty sail, drift off course
Words nick, and there
and there
and there
and there
sleeps a deep poetry

The maudlin painted night
Pained memories
Wave on wave of ice-floes
Dreamin' in a heap of dreary
hurried, sad rendevous
Adorned with a chronic malaise
Adrift in the cold midnight sun
Slowly founderin', light fadin'

And so sinks the evening
thus, into mirrors of sadness
And now it is
so: Thin phenomena alone
in front of the memory pained
night, left but with the lack thereof

An obstinate miner
of the exploited void
The potential,
of all that could have been,
in the rough, glitters there
minglin' with the regrets

Princess of the dark sleep
listen to my protracted plea,
deliver me from the mountain
where upon this spell, this way came

By the pen one with the other
wedded on the pages
Sobs of anguish
Betray you fair stanzas
to run and awaken elsewhere
Plot no admonition
Simply deaf like you and bereft
Blind like you, endless time
Elaborate in the prairies
of the inner silence

Born yet unborn
The words of the dark birth
and the poem of the words
and the stanza
of the poem and
the group of the stanza
and the words of the group
and the letters
of the words and
the last loop of letters

Now without you
between as is and never was
Time gives a shake
and I walk to the other side
unforgiven
without lucidity

© Copyright 2013 Cowboy Coleridge All rights reserved
 
MacGregor Tagliaferro

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  118.     

What Is Courage?

Courage is bravery
Courage is strong
Courage is fighting dragons
Or riding all night long.
Through the snowstorms
Through the wind
Cut through thorns
To battle within.
But why, might I ask, is this the stereotype?
Can’t you be courageous
Without muscles or armor
Without having to fight?
Depends on the person,
But if you ask the right one,
Then your answer is yes.
But wait, we’re not done.
To be courageous,
I said with a grin
You don’t need to fight,
You can always depend on
My chest to lay on.
My arms will enclose you
Encircle and embrace you.
My hands will caress you
With the softest touch
You are delicate, so delicate
Like a bubble
Or a child’s mood.
You can be broken or popped
Zooming or stopped.
My warm sunny skin
Bright and clean
And my face, shining with light,
And full of meaning.
‘’Come to me’’
I beg you
I can’t stand your sorrow
Your suffering, your darkening
You dismiss me, ‘’Tomorrow’’
Stop leaving me hanging
Come now, and come ready
You need my love, and I need yours
When you fall, I will steady.
Please child, do not fear
My heart is open to your sins,
Your confessions
Your regrets
Your despairs and repairs
Your sadness and mourning
Or even to win.
To be courageous,
To truly be brave
You need to have confidence,
Discipline, and behave.
You need chastity and chivalry
Honesty and integrity
Forgiveness and love
Compassion and mercy.
You need to know yourself
Know your enemies and friends.
This next one may be difficult,
But you need to love them to all ends.
Be gentle and tender
Be generous and kind
Be creative and clever,
And have a keen mind.
Accept advice and instructions
Guidance and directions
Be polite but stern
Be sturdy and firm
Be considerate and caring
Cautious but daring
Acute and aware
Observant and fair
Go on your way
For just a day
Or maybe a year
To go face your fears
Either way,
I need not say
When in a predicament
Or in fault or doubt
Look to Father and the Son
That’s what this is all about.
Let me repeat that,
I think it’s so strong.
Look to the Father.
And the Son.
They know, they care
For everyone.
 
Ry Weeks

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  119.     

Courage

Courage isn't a brilliant dash,
A daring deed in a moment's flash;
It isn't an instantaneous thing
Born of despair with a sudden spring
It isn't a creature of flickered hope
Or the final tug at a slipping rope;
But it's something deep in the soul of man
That is working always to serve some plan.

Courage isn't the last resort
In the work of life or the game of sport;
It isn't a thing that a man can call
At some future time when he's apt to fall;
If he hasn't it now, he will have it not
When the strain is great and the pace is hot.
For who would strive for a distant goal
Must always have courage within his soul.

Courage isn't a dazzling light
That flashes and passes away from sight;
It's a slow, unwavering, ingrained trait
With the patience to work and the strength to wait.
It's part of a man when his skies are blue,
It's part of him when he has work to do.
The brave man never is freed of it.
He has it when there is no need of it.

Courage was never designed for show;
It isn't a thing that can come and go;
It's written in victory and defeat
And every trial a man may meet.
It's part of his hours, his days and his years,
Back of his smiles and behind his tears.
Courage is more than a daring deed:
It's the breath of life and a strong man's creed.
 
Edgar Albert Guest

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  120.     

MacGregor's Gathering

The moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae,
And the Clan has a name that is nameless by day;
Then gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather Grigalach!

Our signal for fight, that from monarchs we drew,
Must be heard but by night in our vengeful haloo!
Then haloo, Grigalach! haloo, Grigalach!
Haloo, haloo, haloo, Grigalach!

Glen Orchy's proud mountains, Coalchuirn and her towers,
Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer are ours;
We're landless, landless, landless, Grigalach!
Landless, landless, landless, Grigalach!

But doom'd and devoted by vassal and lord,
MacGregor has still both his heart and his sword!
Then courage, courage, courage, Grigalach!
Courage, courage, courage, Grigalach!

If they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles,
Give their roofs to the flame, and their flesh to the eagles!
Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Grigalach!
Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Grigalach!

While there's leaves in the forest, and foam on the river,
MacGregor despite them, shall flourish for ever!
Come then Grigalach, come then Grigalach,
Come then, come then, come then Grigalach!

Through the depths of Loch Katrine the steed shall career,
O'er the peak of Ben Lomond the galley shall steer,
The rocks of Craig-Royston like icicles melt,
Ere our wrongs be forgot, or our vengeance unfelt!
Then gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
 
Sir Walter Scott

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Read more: courage poems, river poems, moon poems, night poems
   
 
 
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