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Nero CaroZiv Poems
The shade of death
The shade of death is made of a canopy piercing cold That mortal eyes ache and cannot comprehend or behold Yet when mortal eyes are closed And death, cold and pale the limbs reposed
A forest nymph
It was the middle of the night by the forest mossy rock The furry feathers owl had awakened the woods clock How drowsy were the habitants of the trees at that hour The wind whistled and moaned ominously across the wide bower
Hills and dales of ancient land, bleak, barren and glaring Where my thoughtless, happy hours beguiling childhood strayed, How the sand with ages of patina on me is warring, Howl, moan winds of the past above my tufted shade!
How does she smile
How does she smile like that little crocodile To improve her seductive shining tail, And how her sweet words are vile as the croc waters of the Nile On every comparable, measurable scale!
Is it gone?
Is it gone? Is it Silent? My pulses beat What is it a mock trick of the brain Yet not, I thought I saw her stand As a shadow, a speechless phantom with awe at my feet
A walk in Manhattan
Faces that float in rivers of people I meet; I see and pass Throngs thrust through bustling city, buzzing noise and broken roar Faces that come and go; faces I see and lose in windows glass All portraits new I will never see again; I have never seen before
Oh that it were possible
Oh that it were possible After long grief and pain You walk in the path of amiable Innocence and repentance plain
I have no thought in me but you
I have no thought in me but you No other dear debt to me is due If yet I have not all your love I shall never have it all
A book bazaar
I was in Manhattan in a book bazaar with lots of bargains, none interested me. I kept my eyes wandering around not really knowing where to look, At the strolling people or at the static street shelves books It is just like being in a Zoo
Today at Gettysburg the woods are calm, nodding to and through With shimmering forms that flash before an observer view And then melt in green, variety of hues as the dawn stars melt in blue
An Autumn Night
An autumn night, so bitter chill it is A wide staring owl, for all its plum and thick feathers is cold The hare long ago rushed limping trembling through the frozen maze Into a lair, and silent stark are the song birds on a woody enfold
Cruel jaws of Time
Cruel jaws of Time, they take and grape in our trust Our youth, our joys, our all world we own and have, And pay us back but with earth, sand, and dust; Who eventually made us in the dark and silent grave,
Why you only
Oh how I long for you; how does my heart rebel, How cruel is the Time since last we said farewell And yet I wonder why does it anger my heart to long so For one maid out of the whole world of maids in youth and in glow?
She said Good Night
She said Good-night! and disappeared behind a door like in a drill Two so estranged words which sever those it should unite; I wished to remain together for a while; the night was young still, 'Good night' that never was in essence good night.
Quotationsmore quotations »
''Winter, as harsh as brutal it isnone
Always warm spring follows, the wounded earth to appease
Yet unfortunate I am, not being as optimistic
When it comes to death; I am realistic''
''She looks fair from farnone
Yet she is far from being fair''
''I have been astonished; struck that men could die martyrs for religion—I have shuddered at it. It is the same world; the same God; why not let people be free to choose the method to address GOD?''none
The way the world is; the diversities in it of flowers, trees, grass, birds, animals and human races it conveys to me the thought that GOD likes diversity; God would not like all humans being of the ...none
''How one can tell that a piece of beauty is beautiful unless an ugly thing will be near by; therefore ugly is part of the beauty''none
Comments about Nero CaroZiv
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
The shade of death
The shade of death is made of a canopy piercing cold
That mortal eyes ache and cannot comprehend or behold
Yet when mortal eyes are closed
And death, cold and pale the limbs reposed
Shall the disposed soul then wakes and roaming it seen
Asking: 'where are Eden's Golden keys? '
Some claim that grave is Heaven' gate
Where rich as poor, royal as commoner, all around it wait
A tale, a fairy, a feeble since old age told
Yet no one from there returned to this story enfold
Copy rights 2010