In school it was not exactly my favorite genre of Literature, but this poem has always “touched” me, for lack of better words. I wonder if there are others out there you guys find some meaning in?
For Whom the Bell Tolls
by
John Donne | 
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| | No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee. |
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Replies
How easy it is to make people believe a lie, and [how] hard it is to undo that work again! -- Mark Twain
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss[es];
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your [or our] turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on [to it] when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count [on you,] with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
ECHO...ECHO....echo...
Ah......One savors the hypocrisy!
Karma.........It’s a bitch.
I do believe that these words were spoken when a man was expected to judge his peers as he would be judged himself and people were expected to be "of substance" or simply fail and die since there were precious few safety nets in place.
I do believe that when such a person of substance, however you define this personally, dies it does diminish your universe. My best friend's passing a couple of years ago was a devastating experience for me and the bells did toll for me to a degree because I still feel diminished without him in the world.
But I also believe that some clods are washed away to the benefit of the continent...
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.
ECHO...ECHO....echo...
Ah......One savors the hypocrisy!
Karma.........It’s a bitch.
How easy it is to make people believe a lie, and [how] hard it is to undo that work again! -- Mark Twain
My all time favorite
HOW DID YOU DIE
Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful
Oh troubles a ton , or troubles an ounce
Or a trouble is what you make it
And it isnt the fact that your hurt that counts
But only how did you take it
You are beaten to earth ? Well well whats that?
Come up with a smiling face
Its nothing against you to fall down flat
But to lie there -- thats disgrace
The harder your thrown , why the higher you bounce
Be proud of your blackened eye
It isnt the fact that your licked that counts
But how did you fight -- and why
And though you be done to death, what than
If you battled the best you could
If you played your part in the world of men
Why the critic will call it good
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce
And weather hes slow or spry
It isnt the fact that your dead that counts
But only how did you die?
EDMUND VANCE COOKE 1866 - 1932
JAY
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far
To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march
Into hell for a heavenly cause
To this glorious quest
That my heart will lay peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest
That one man scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To fight the unbeatable foe
To reach the unreachable star
For a short while, when much younger, I wrote poetry, too. But I gave it up rather quickly because the damned firemen kept hosing it off the overpass.
Mike
N454casull
How easy it is to make people believe a lie, and [how] hard it is to undo that work again! -- Mark Twain
High flight by John Gillespie Magee is an old favourite of mine, my Grandfather was RAAF '39-'46, he liked it too.
A few Seamus Heaney poems are meaningful to me, particularly "Digging", resonates with some aspirations I have for my children.
Live Your Life
So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart.
Trouble no one about their religion;
respect others in their view, and demand that they respect yours.
Love your life,
perfect your life,
beautify all things in your life.
Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people.
Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.
Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend,
even a stranger, when in a lonely place.
Show respect to all people and grovel to none.
When you arise in the morning give thanks for the food and for the joy of living.
If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself.
Abuse no one and no thing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision.
When it comes your time to die,
be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death,
so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way.
Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.
Chief Tecumseh 1768-1813
When harf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch
Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch
She's human as you are - you treat her as sich
And she'll fight for the young British soldier
Do the maintenance kids!
"Nothing is safe from stupid." - Zee
― Douglas Adams
― Douglas Adams
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
How easy it is to make people believe a lie, and [how] hard it is to undo that work again! -- Mark Twain