Ultimately Poem by Ernest Hemingway
He tried to spit out the truth;
Dry-mouthed at first,
He drooled and slobbered in the end;
Truth dribbling his chin.
Poems On Beauty Poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Beauty is truth’s smile
when she beholds her own face in a perfect mirror.
Beauty is in the ideal of perfect harmony
which is in the universal being;
truth the perfect comprehension of the universal mind.
Beauty Is A Light Poem by Rahman Henry
At times and in some cases
Truth can be mixed with
Guile and guilt
Truth can be manipulated
Beauty is mightier than the truth
Beauty tastes sweet
Even in a lit-less night
Where no moon is visible
Beauty herself is a light
That no darkness can conceal
The Truth In You Poem by Sylvia Chidi
I seek the truth in you
The weak lie is not you
So speak up, yes you
The truth hurts but it works
The truth simplifies and dignifies
The truth sooths preserving your youth
I ask the truth of you
Cry now, take a tissue
So speak up, yes you
The truth signifies and modifies
The truth is within and the best way to begin
The truth is a good start especially for sweethearts
I need the truth of you
Simply choose your venue
So speak up, yes you
The truth to any degree
Is a starting point to be free
Just like one and two make three
So speak up, yes you
If you agree
Good Counsel Of Chaucer Poem by Geoffrey Chaucer
Flee from the press, and dwell with soothfastness;
Suffice thee thy good, though it be small;
For hoard hath hate, and climbing tickleness,
Press hath envy, and weal is blent o’er all,
Savour no more than thee behove shall;
Read well thyself, that other folk canst read;
And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.
Paine thee not each crooked to redress,
In trust of her that turneth as a ball;
Great rest standeth in little business:
Beware also to spurn against a nail;
Strive not as doth a crocke with a wall;
Deeme thyself that deemest others’ deed,
And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.
What thee is sent, receive in buxomness;
The wrestling of this world asketh a fall;
Here is no home, here is but wilderness.
Forth, pilgrim! Forthe beast, out of thy stall!
Look up on high, and thank thy God of all!
Weive thy lust, and let thy ghost thee lead,
And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.
Cinemascope Poem by Ernestine Northover
I was thinking that, when we get to heaven,
will we be made to sit in an auditorium,
and be shown on a huge ‘CinemaScope’ screen
a film of ‘our life’ from start to finish,
the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
Scaring?
Could be! Looking back, reviewing things,
things you’d rather not look back on.
Analysing each second, minute, and hour,
day, month and year.
Shrinking lower and lower into your seat.
No escape! No way out! – It would be compulsory!
How would you feel after all that ‘revealing stuff’.
Makes you realise that what we make of our lives
could be very important – later!
Trouble is, there’s no going back
and clicking on ‘EDIT’ – is there!
I Dreamed. Poem by Emma Wright
I dreamed a dream and in that dream,
I dreamed that I had dreamed a dream,
Of hope and fairytales come true,
I dreamed a dream and thought of truth,
I dreamed a dream of life and love,
Of fate and angels and God above,
I dreamed a dream of good wishes and friends,
I dreamed a dream I dreaded to end,
But then I woke into my dream,
I dreamed I woke in a world obscene,
I dreamed a dream of violence and hate,
And once again I dreamed of fate,
I dreamed a dream of terror and fear,
I dreamed that each word went unheard,
And so children never spoke a word,
I dreamed a dream of demons and beasts,
I dreamed a dream that ended at last,
I woke in my bed and wondered if,
I dreamed a dream of dreams or if,
I dreamed a dream of truth that night,
And if so I wondered which was truth,
And which was merely a dream.
! A Platonic Reminiscence Of A Great Lady Poem by Michael Shepherd
Someone mentioned your name yesterday
and I was silent
You loved goodness, you were goodness,
and I think goodness must have
loved you; and we,
we loved you for your goodness
You loved truth, spoke truth,
and surely the truth
loved you for loving it; and how
we loved to hear you
speaking truth
You loved beauty in
so many ways that beauty
blessed you: in movement,
in actions, in thought, in words and yes
the beauty of goodness and
the beauty of truth shone from you –
how could we not love you
beyond you?
How often in this poem to you
the word love appears
as it did
in you
Lies About Love Poem by David Herbert Lawrence
We are a liars, because
the truth of yesterday becomes a lie tomorrow,
whereas letters are fixed,
and we live by the letter of truth.
The love I feel for my friend, this year,
is different from the love I felt last year.
If it were not so, it would be a lie.
Yet we reiterate love! love! love!
as if it were a coin with a fixed value
instead of a flower that dies, and opens a different bud.