Each time someone stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope.
quote by Robert F. Kennedy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Each time a person stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, these ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.
quote by Robert Francis Kennedy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.
quote by Robert F. Kennedy, South Africa, 1966
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Almost Ideal Eyes
Here she comes with her almost ideal eyes
And her flawless skin and her petulant pout
The memory of such a long blond alibi
Still makes me want to shout out loud
You ************ when you clear your head my dear
You cant come out here in those stolen clothes
Telling me all about some mystery
I hope she isnt one, I hope she isnt one of those
Almost ideal eyes
Viewed through a rosey hue
So beautiful, trusting
You find liberal is an insult now and care is what you pay for
Be sure of what youre wishing for, be careful what you pray for
When you look into those almost ideal
Love is smiles, he will hypnotize you wild
He tries to analyze your dreams
Fill you up with all his big ideas while he really wants to make you
Scream out loud at the phony innocence
And pained pretence and the dismal rage.
The vacant lot that thankfully time forgot
Where you never have to act, you never have to act your age
Almost ideal eyes
Viewed through a rosey hue
So beautiful, trusting
You find stupid is a compliment and thrill is what you play for
Be sure of what youre wishing for, be careful what you pray for
When you look into those almost ideal eyes
In the spirit(? ) all your friends look uglier
And you find youre wearing an evening gown
Weeping over some tiny broken bird
While the sky is decorated
Shocking pink and a dirty shade of brown
And you think you need to be tranquilized
A feat that may fit to your new career
Whatever you invent youll never be content with
Almost ideal eyes
Viewed through a rosey hue
So beautiful, trusting
Rebellion is just currency, the moon is what you pay for
Be sure of what youre looking for, be careful what you pray for
When you look into those almost ideal eyes
Here she comes, here she comes now.....
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thunderball
He always runs while others walk
He acts while other men just talk.
He looks at this world, and wants it all,
So he strikes, like thunderball.
He knows the meaning of success.
His needs are more, so he gives less.
They call him the winner who takes all.
And he strikes, like thunderball.
Any woman he wants, hell get.
He will break any heart without regret.
His days of asking are all gone.
His fight goes on and on and on.
But he thinks that the fight is worth it all.
So he strikes like thunderball
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moral Fiber!
true moral fiber...
is grounded in respect!
respect yourself!
respect the earth!
respect your neighbor!
(everyone is your neighbor)
respect the search for truth.
respect justice!
respect the rights of human beings
to be human beings!
respect the need of each and all!
living thus...
will not allow you to respect,
acts of injustice,
acts of ignorance,
acts of prejudice,
acts of greed!
be respect!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I have long been convinced that my artistic ideal stands or falls with Germany. Only the Germany that we love and desire can help us achieve that ideal.
quote by Richard Wagner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prepare for being forgotten.
A ripple, tiny or large,
Shakes space and time
And dies in space and time,
Some soon, some later,
No one for ever.
Prepare for being forgotten.
06.10.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Final Chapter
there's a small fire burning
in the corner of a room
he had not seen
for some time...
the kaleidoscope of tiny breaths'
each one personal and real;
like tiny sparks with names
long forgotten....
the heart is a kingdom
of it's own making and design;
full of the precious now lost
in the howl of the night.
and he stands on the precipice,
angry, tired, bitter....
without choice, without meaning...
and no reason to be.
let there be peace somewhere.
let there be living...
let there be truth, honor, and dignity...
let there be hope.
he closes the door,
and walks to meet an angry God.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Mind
There rings the bell
The dream strikes hard
Awakening the girl
A dream so bad
There comes joy
The thoughts strike hard
Happy is the boy
In the end gets mad
There goes hope
Night strikes hard
Man hangs on a rope
A story so sad
There sounds the gun
Day dream strikes hard
The woman can't run
Just waits for the blood
There comes war
The life strikes hard
All on the floor
In the red liquid flood.
poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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The Other
I sit at this tiny table
and wait
as I have before
for you to make
excuses to get
away;
to steal the tiny time
you have with me.
I know I should go,
break away
and leave
but I don't.
I sip my coffee
swirling in the cup
mixing my milk
and your strong brew.
Perhaps one day
there will be a me and you
but today-right now
there is only me.
I feel you at my side
suddenly
your face
comes over me
and once again
there is the peace
you offer
each time we meet.
That is the drug
which overpowers
each time
I
the other woman;
and we
reach across
the tiny table
re-joined
in tiny time
the tiny space
we allow ourselves
to enjoy
rarely,
this other me
that other you.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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There She Stands
When the night
Seems to say
All hope is lost
Gone away
But I know
I'm not alone
By the light
She stands
There she waves
Faithful friend
Shimmering stars
Westward wind
Show the way
Carry me
To the place
She stands
Just when you think it might be over
Just when you think the fight is gone
Someone will risk his life to raise her
There she stands
There she flies
Clear blue skies
Reminds us with red
Of those that died
Washed in white
By the grave
In their strength
She stands
When evil calls itself a martyr
When all your hopes come crashing down
Someone will pull her from the rubble
There she stands
We've seen her flying torn and tattered
We've seen her stand the test of time
And through it all the fools have fallen
There she stands
By the dawn's
Early light
And through the fight
She stands
song performed by by Michael W. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The greatness of human actions is measured by the inspiration that it brings. Blessed is he who carries within himself a God, an ideal of beauty and obeys it: an ideal of art, ideal of science, ideal of country, ideal virtues of the Gospel! These are the wellsprings of great thoughts and great actions. All reflections illuminate infinity.
quote by Louis Pasteur
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Many People Hate To Make A Ripple
Not many people beating on their own drum.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Not many people making music they hum.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Cause many people hate to make a ripple.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Many people hate to make a ripple.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Clinging on a moan and a whine all the time.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Complaining to their neighbors and their neighbors don't mind.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Cause many people hate to make a ripple.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Many people hate to make a ripple.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Not many people beating on their own drum.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Not many people making music they hum.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Cause many people hate to make a ripple.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Cause many people hate to make a ripple.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Many people hate to make a ripple.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Many people hate to make a ripple.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Many people hesitate with wishes to procrastinate.
Many people hate to make a ripple.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Many people hate to make a ripple.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lightning Strikes The Postman
I got yer letter it had turned to sand, lighting strikes the postman in
His hand, I hope that you remember the things you had to say, its just
A supernatural delay... I got yer package it was all a mess, lightning strikes
The postman in his chest, I hope that you remember the things you
Had to
Say, its just a supernatural delay...
I sent you a postcard and I hope yer fine
But lightning strike the postman all the time
I couldnt really think of anything to say
Its just a supernatural delay,
And its hard to read the writing through the flames...
song performed by by Flaming Lips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Ripple Song
Once red ripple came to land
In the golden sunset burning--
Lapped against a maiden's hand,
By the ford returning.
Dainty foot and gentle breast--
Here, across, be glad and rest.
"Maiden, wait," the ripple saith;
"Wait awhile, for I am Death!"
"Where my lover calls I go--
Shame it were to treat him coldly--
'Twas a fish that circled so,
Turning over boldly."
Dainty foot and tender heart,
Wait the loaded ferry-raft.
"Wait, ah, wait!" the ripple saith;
"Maiden, wait, for I am Death!"
"When my lover calls I haste--
Dame Disdain was never wedded!"
Ripple-ripple round her waist,
Clear the current eddied.
Foolish heart and faithful hand,
Little feet that touched no land.
Far away the ripple sped,
Ripple-ripple running red!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Nurse's Watch
From 'The Boy's Wonderhorn'
The moon it shines,
My darling whines;
The clock strikes twelve:--God cheer
The sick both far and near.
God knoweth all;
Mousy nibbles in the wall;
The clock strikes one:--like day,
Dreams o'er thy pillow play.
The matin-bell
Wakes the nun in convent cell;
The clock strikes two:--they go
To choir in a row.
The wind it blows,
The cock he crows;
The clock strikes three:--the wagoner
In his straw bed begins to stir.
The steed he paws the floor,
Creaks the stable door;
The clock strikes four:--'tis plain
The coachman sifts his grain.
The swallow's laugh the still air shakes,
The sun awakes;
The clock strikes five:--the traveler must be gone,
He puts his stockings on.
The hen is clacking,
The ducks are quacking;
The clock strikes six:--awake, arise,
Thou lazy hag; come, ope thy eyes.
Quick to the baker's run;
The rolls are done;
The clock strikes seven:--
'Tis time the milk were in the oven.
Put in some butter, do,
And some fine sugar, too;
The clock strikes eight:--
Now bring my baby's porridge straight.
poem by Clemens Maria Brentano
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Strive
Every tide, tiny or big, has to ebb.
Yet it rises; yes, it must.
Every ripple, any size, has to die,
Yet it stirs; yes, it must.
Every soul, king or pauper, would vanish.
Yet we strive; yes, we must.
18.08.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Ripple
Ripple runs through circles till
It meets another ripple’s will, -
Perhaps it overrides the first,
Perhaps subsides, perhaps both burst.
Life, likewise, ripples, never still,
Eternal circles stream Time’s thirst...
21 August 1995
poem by Jonathan Robin
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It's Just That Simple
There's a whole lot of money that you gave me
I'd gladly empty my pockets right now
You'd parlay all that by triple
It's just that simple
Those days I'd gladly walk so long for you,
Although it seemed I crawled most of the way
After some time I felt like a cripple
It's just that simple
Last week I was thinking about traveling by land,
And the time you remember we were by the lake
It wasn't even like we made a ripple
It's just that simple
In my head, the time didn't make a ripple
It's just that simple
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Once Was A Tiny Girl
there once
was a tiny girl
who grew up
in this world
there once
was a tiny girl
who cried herself to sleep
every night
there once
was a tiny girl
who wore the same dress
every day
there once
was a tiny girl
who wouldn't go out
and play
there once
was a tiny girl
who would bleed and have bruises
from head to toe
there once
was a tiny girl
who begged
daddy, please no more
there once
was a tiny girl
who the angels
heard her prayer
they came down
and took her
to a better place
where that tiny girl
found love
instead of hate
by: crystal sonier
age: 15
poem by Natalia Anna Joelie
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