Related quotes: You can time a part...

You can time a part perfectly and play it badly. And some people have very individual offbeat timing, which is their own. It works simply because they are who they are.

quote by Alan Bates
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes

Offbeat

Offbeat but a rhythm keeps,
Doing what it should.
With a doing that it could be...
Offbeat,
But a rhythm keeps...
Offbeat.

Offbeat but a rhythm keeps,
Doing what it should.
With a doing that it could be...
Offbeat,
But a rhythm keeps.

Unblocked or not stopped to do,
A patting of one's feet to...
Seal them in their seats.
And,
This is...
Offbeat.

Offbeat but a rhythm keeps,
Seeking to reach plateaus...
Offbeat.

Offbeat but a rhythm keeps,
Doing what it should.
With a doing that it could be...
Offbeat,
But a rhythm keeps...
Offbeat.

Offbeat but a rhythm keeps,
Doing what it should.
With a doing that it could be...
Offbeat,
But a rhythm keeps...
Seeking to reach plateaus.
Offbeat.
But a rhythm keeps,
Seeking to reach plateaus...
Offbeat.
But a rhythm keeps.

Offbeat but a rhythm keeps,
Doing what it should.
With a doing that it could be...
Offbeat,
But a rhythm keeps,
Seeking to reach plateaus...
Offbeat.
But a rhythm keeps,
Seeking to reach plateaus...
Offbeat.
But a rhythm keeps.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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432

When You Got In
I Went Out
Such Is The Wrong Timing
Of Your
Compassion

Then We Talk
About The Proper Timing
Of Our Desires

You Set The Time, The Place, And The Mood
Now It Is Not Just Desire But
Love

Yes, Love,
But Sometimes I Still Wonder
What Love Is
When Two People Meet At The Proper Time
The Proper Place, And The Proper Mood

When Everything Seems Right
And Yet
Feels So Wrong
When Everything Is Supposedly Proper
And Yet
There Is Still This
Feeling Of Impropriety

I Am 48 Years Old And You Are 49
And I Am Just Asking
When We All Want To Be Inside The Room Of
Ecstacy

And Yet
They All Want Us
Out

Just Because They Also Feel
That The Timing May Be Right
But It Simply Does Not
Look All Right

And Then You Are A Little
Bit Irritated And You Ask
Finally

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wrong Timing

when you got in
i went out
such is the wrong timing
of your
compassion

then we talk
about the proper timing
of our desires

you set the time, the place, and the mood
now it is not just desire but
love

yes, love,
but sometimes i still wonder
what love is
when two people meet at the proper time
the proper place, and the proper mood

when everything seems right
and yet
feels so wrong
when everything is supposedly proper
and yet
there is still this
feeling of impropriety

i am 48 years old and you are 49
and i am just asking
when we all want to be inside the room of
ecstacy

and yet
they all want us
out

just because they also feel
that the timing may be right
but it simply does not
look all right

and then you are a little bit irritated and you ask
finally:

why do you talk too much?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The one game we all play

We play games
To show our valour
And mainly to win

We do not mind going for coaching
If we feel we do not have the
Required strength to win

We play games
Either as a team or individual
The attempt is to demonstrate
That we are better talented
Than the team or member
Against whom we play

Nations enthuse people to play games
So that they add pride

Some games are played with
Gadgets and protective accessories

We have spectators to watch
The way we play
We have umpires and referees
Who ensure rules of the games
Are strictly adhered
And it is all a fair play

We play games indoor or outdoor
We play games in daylight
Or under artificial illumination

We score while playing
And the score achieved by a team or individual
In a specific time
Decides the winner

We telecast the games
We comment on the strengths and weaknesses
Of a team or individual

We conduct national and international
Tournaments to declare a team or individual
As champion

Irrespective of skills, race, gender
We all play a game
Which is played mainly to lose
It is an individual game
With no specific rules
With no umpire
With no spectator
With no commentator
With no TV coverage
With no scores
With no trophies
With no victory stands
With no top scorer
With no “player of the match”
But we play

Most of us like to play this game
Indoor and in closed doors
Decency and civilized ways
Do not allow this game being played in the open

There is no season for this game
It can be played any part of the day
And any part of the year
Summer, winter, monsoon seasons
Have no bearing on this game

The one requirement in this game is
Complete transparency and intimacy

Rules for this game
Vary from individual to individual
Rules also get refined
With the experience of the players

There are no restrictions to employ
Any method as both the players
Are determined to be the loser

Duration of play depends again
On the individuals

The game ends
Most often to the satisfaction
Of the both the players

In other games players declare
That they are retiring from playing
There is no retirement in this game
As players advance in age
They understand it is more a mind game

Outcome of this game
Are further more players

You guessed it right
It is the game of love

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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The Poet's Fingerprints

Poems are like fingerprints to the poet,
Many may try to copy you
It is perfectly alright...
Others may try to steal your works
Or simply twist them around
And present them as their own,
Post them to world to see
However, once they go home
They must deal with their conscience
Since they know for sure
They have stolen somebody's else works...
Originality says it all
It is being unique in this world,
Therefore, if you can recognize the prints
It would be easy to know the poet...
And tell the difference
Between the real one from the fake...
Reputation is at stake
Only time can tell....
Read carefully and you will see
Make no mistake...

poem by Romeo Della Valle
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I like to play dark, offbeat, quirky characters.

quote by Mischa Barton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Tragedy Loves An Audience

The moment I met her I thought
'You know, she would play the 'tortured widow' really well'.
After all, if all the world is a stage,
then the cast should at least be adequate
and given my seeming 'need' for self destruction
it would be nice to have someone who is predisposed to melodrama around.

It's all about timing.
Timing and inevitability.

poem by Brevet Wilson
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Yes, it is a rehearsed show, yes, it was analogy of going to see a play at the theatre, where everything has to be in place and whole things, everything being works, all works together to get the best effect you know it's more like an actor learning a part.

quote by John Deacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was in love with this character of Ray Krebbs. I wanted the part badly. I had done several Western films in my career at that point and there wasn't much opportunity then to play Western roles on television at that time.

quote by Steve Kanaly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is timing in the whole life of the warrior, in his thriving and declining, in his harmony and discord. Similarly, there is timing in the Way of the merchant, in the rise and fall of capital. All things entail rising and falling timing. You must be able to discern this.

quote by Miyamoto Musashi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Timer

She thinks shes high fashion
She thinks she looks divine
And thats what I keep tellin her
I tell her all the time
And she tells me she likes fast cars
She says she likes mine the best
And just because of that, baby
You think shed forget the rest, no, no, no
Just call me a three time loser
Thats all Ill ever be
cause my babys such a two timer
You know shes two timing, shes a-two timing me
Two timer, my baby is a two timer
My babys a two timer
My babys a two timer
My baby, shes a-two timing me, timer
Two timer
Just call me a three time loser
Thats all Ill ever be
cause my babys such a two timer
You know shes two timing, shes a-two timing me
Two timer, two timer
My babys a two timer
My babys a two timer
My baby, shes a-two timing me, two timer
My baby is a two timer
Shes nothin but a two timer
Its the truth baby, youre a two timer
My baby is a two timer
My baby is a two timer

song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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BBC Proms

To be a part of the BBC Proms season,
There are several extremely good reasons.
The majestic building: London’s Royal Albert Hall,
Is one of the greatest concert venues of them all.

Each Season, people flock through its many doors.
Different types of music they have come to explore.
The BBC Proms season attracts audiences young and old.
For this great music festival, a shining torch people always hold.

It gives musicians the chance to showcase the amazing art
Of talented composers from Mahler through to Mozart.
People get the chance to hear works old and new.
By the famous works, especially, the fans are wooed.

Singers and musicians from all over the world,
Come together to take part in this musical pearl.
For nearly two whole months, there are concerts every day.
It really is the world’s greatest celebration of classical music. Yay!

Ladies and gentlemen dressed in their smart attire,
Come to watch musicians, soloists and choirs.
Every year, the musical proceedings simply must,
Be resided over by Sir Henry Wood’s bronze bust.

The final night is world famous for its electric atmosphere.
The sound of music and people singing is what you will hear.
To Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance march, they bob up and down,
All you can see is happy, smiling faces and never a single frown.

People dressed in red, white and blue, the colours of our land,
Experience much enjoyment and the whole event is simply grand.
To the music, concertgoers wave their Union Jacks in time.
They sing along and, by heart, they know every single line.

At the end, the orchestra give a much welcomed encore.
It is always a great pleasure and never ever a chore.
On the Last Night of the Proms, there is much cheer
Signalling the end of the Season for yet another year.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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Time in Hell

I float in time with open mind...
A quest; a chance of riddled thought:
Infinity squared, then seek to find
An answer; pained and overwrought,
I dodder with an addled head;
Befuddled, merging with a haze of
Mysticism, then to tread
A metaphoric swamp – a maze
Of existentialism…

But now for time to tick in rhyme
With ‘tock’ – a clock to tell thro’ chime
Precisely on the knell
That as I dared to understand,
I must be deep in Hell…

Time
Time, time
Time, time, time, time
Ticking time, timing time
Time and time and time in time is time
for time in Hell is time and time for time, is time
Oh time is time, time, time, ticking time in Hell
Ticking time, timing time
Time, time, time, time
Time time
Time

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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This Girl

I want so badly to be part of her world.
She's more precious than an ocean pearl.

I wish I could tell her how I feel.
I wish I could really let her know the deal.
If only we had the time to chill.

Where did this girl come from.
And they say nothing good is at fort drum.
If they dont see what Im seeing then they're just dumb.

What is it about this girl.

Is it her smile thats so cencer and loud.

Is it her talk or the attitude in her walk.

A girl like this is hard to find.
You could still she her beauty if you were blind.
Man this girl really blows my mind.
I wanna make this girl mine.

This girl leaves me guessin.
I feel like this girl is a blessin.

So badly I want her to be part of my world.
Yet Im still asking why This Girl.

poem by Daniel Chapman
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Even people who feel perfectly comfortable investing in the stock market and owning their own homes often have qualms about individual medical accounts or Social Security private accounts.

quote by Jacob Hacker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Clansman

(harris)
Wake alone in the hills
With the wind in your face
It feels good to be proud
And be free and a race
That is part of a clan
And to live on highlands
And the air that you breathe
So pure and so clean
When alone on the hills
With the wind in your hair
With a longing to feel ..
Just to be free
Is it right to believe
In the need to be free
Its a time when you die
And without asking why
Cant you see what they do
They are grinding us down
They are taking our land
That belongs to the clans
Not alone with a dream
Just want to be free
With a need to belong
I am a clansman .....freedom
Its a time wrought with fear
Its a land wrought with change
Ancestors could hear
What is happening now
They would turn in their graves
They would all be ashamed
That the land of the free
Has been written in chains
And I know what I want
When the timing is right
Then Ill take what is mine
I am the clansman
And I swear to defend
And well fight to the end
And I swear that Ill never
Be taken alive
And I know that well stand
And well fight for our land
And I swear that my bairns will be born free
And I know what I want
When the timing is right
Then Ill take what I want
I am the clansman .....freedom
And I know what I want when the timing is right
Then Ill take what is mine I am the clansman
No, no we cant let them take anymore
No we cant let them take anymore
Weve the land of the free
Freedom
Is it right to believe
In the need to be free
Its a time when you die
And without asking why
Cant you see what they do
They are grinding us down
They are taking our land
That belongs to the clans
Not alone with a dream
Just want to be free
With a need to belong
I am a clansman
And I know what I want
When the timing is right
Then Ill take what is mine
I am the clansman ? ..freedom

song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Human Puzzle

human are like puzzle
there's some part filling
and there's some part missing
so they can't help to fulfill each other
some part fit well
some part unconnected
but they never give up to try untill
some part falling
and some part making
they know there is always sacrifice
they know it'll hurt
but they can do nothing if only alone
so in their uncertain path of life
they keep walking
they keep searching
a place where they are perfectly matching
in a giant puzzle
of God's creation

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Running Time,

Running Time,
Running time,
Ahead of all timing,
It is not waiting for any man,
There is the running in me that is seeing a future,

Time taketh a man away,
I see that time is not waiting for any being,
It is only that we conjecture on the Blessing's that we are about to receive,
Not wasting any time is even better,
Iam a man that need's respect,
I find that value and time is all waiting for that joy,
All time and all moments,
There is that calling that I find life harder than ever before,
In all that man can do,
Time is separating man from knowledge and Kingdom that is to come,
There is nothing worth like Time,
We conjecture on timing,
Time is like,
It is a god head.

poem by Abdul Karim
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Treat Her Gently - Lonely Old People

Treat her gently
Treat her kind
She doesnt even know her own mind
Treat her simply
Take it slow
Make it easy
And let her know
Youll never find another way
Here we sit
Two lonely old people
Eaking our lives away
Bit by bit
Two lonely old people
Keeping the time of day
Here we sit
Out of breath
And nobody asked us to play
-- old peoples home for the play --
Nobody asked us to play
Treat her gently
Treat her kind
She doesnt even know her own mind
Treat her simply
Make it slow
Take it easy
And let her know
Youll never find another way
Here we sit
Two lonely old people etc. etc . . . . .
. . . . . . . nobody asked us to play.

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golf From Hell

THE DEVIL INVENTED THIS IMPOSSIBLE SPORT.
WORSE THAN HELLFIRE, IT’S YOUR LAST RESORT.
SO MANY HAVE TRIED; SO MANY HAVE CRIED.
IN THOSE HAZZARDS SO MANY HAVE DIED.

WHAT A PLEASURE TO PLAY WITH A SCRATCH HANDICAPPER.
MAKES YOU WANT TO THROW YOUR STICKS IN THE CRAPPER.
HE SAYS IT’S JUST EYE-HAND COORDINATION.
HE’S NEVER SUFFERED FROM TWO-FOOT PUTT CONSTIPATION.

HE SAYS IT’S JUST A MATTER OF SHIFTING YOUR WEIGHT.
AS FOR ANYMORE SHIFTING, IT’S NOW TOO LATE.
AND WHAT’S THAT DEAL ABOUT A FULL SHOULDER TURN?
WHEN I TIE MY SHOES, THEY ALREADY BURN.

WORST OF ALL IS HIS SMOOTH, SLOW BACKSWING.
IF I TRIED THAT, I WOULDN’T MOVE ANYTHING.
HE SAYS TIMING GIVES HIM ADDED TORK.
I SAY MY TIMING HELPS ME PLAY LIKE A DORK.

AND OH MY GOD WHEN HE’S ON THE GREEN,
HE DROPS PUTTS LIKE A MACHINE.
THAT’S WHERE WE PLAY SOMEWHAT THE SAME
I MACHINE GUN MY PUTTS… AND KILL MY GAME.

AT THE END OF THE ROUND, HE SAYS IT WAS FUN.
BUT I’M HERE TO TELL YOU WHEN THAT ORDEAL’S DONE,
I HEAD FOR THE SHOWERS SAD AND ALONE.
AGAIN I’VE BEATEN MYSELF… ALL ON MY OWN.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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