Author's Poems

in Poems (Author's Poems)
You took my hand and drew me to your side,
made me sit on the high seat before all men, till I became timid, unable to stir and walk my own way;
doubting and debating at every step lest I should tread upon any thorn of their disfavour.
I am freed at last!
The blow has come, the drum of insult sounded, my seat is laid low in the dust.
My paths are open before me.
My wings are full of the desire of the sky.
I go to join the shooting stars of midnight, to plunge into the profound shadow.
I am like the storm-driven cloud of summer that, having cast off its crown of gold, hangs as a sword the thunderbolt upon a chain of lightning.
In desperate joy I run upon the dusty path of the despised; I draw near to your final welcome.
The child finds its mother when it leaves her womb.
When I am parted from you, thrown out from your household, I am free to see your face.
Rate this poem: Send
    Posted by: Francesco Pierri
    in Poems (Author's Poems)
    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.
    Rate this poem: Send
      Posted by: Save a Quote Staff
      in Poems (Author's Poems)
      The most beautiful of oceans
      it that which we never sailed.
      The most beautiful of our sons
      hasn't yet grown.
      The most beautiful of our days
      we still have to live.
      And that
      which I would like to you of most beautiful
      I haven't yet told you.
      Rate this poem: Send