He was burned, so he ran into the bamboo grove, but the grove caught fire.
Related quotes
China Groove
When the sun comes up on a sleepy little town
Down around San Antone
And the folks are risin' for another day
'Round about their homes
The people of the town are strange
And they're proud of where they came
Well, you're talkin' 'bout China Grove
Oh, China Grove
Well, the preacher and the teacher
Lord, they're a caution
They are the talk of the town
When the gossip gets to flyin'
And they ain't lyin'
When the sun goes fallin' down
They say that the father's insane
And dear Missus Perkin's a game
We're talkin' 'bout the China Grove
Oh, China Grove
But every day there's a new thing comin'
The ways of an oriental view
The sheriff and his buddies
With their samurai swords
You can even hear the music at night
And though it's a part of the Lone Star State
People don't seem to care
They just keep on lookin' to the East
Talkin' 'bout the China Grove
Oh, China Grove
song performed by by Doobie Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Huckleberry Grove
Shirley was a lady whose teeth were made of gold
She danced before the music and everything it told
Huckleberry Grove
Where the music plays into tomorrow night
Huckleberry Grove
Only fools would need to argue or to fight
Shirley had eight children and each of them were told
You got joy for singing burning in your soul
Huckleberry Grove
Where the idiots can't ease you of your mind
Huckleberry Grove
Take a free train
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene from B-Sides: Seasides & Freerides
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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China Grove
Tom johnston
When the sun comes up on a sleepy little town
Down around san antone
And the folks are risin for another day
round about their homes
The people of the town are strange
And theyre proud of where they came
Well, youre talkin bout china grove
Oh, china grove
Well, the preacher and the teacher
Lord, theyre a caution
They are the talk of the town
When the gossip gets to flyin
And they aint lyin
When the sun goes fallin down
They say that the fathers insane
And dear missus perkins a game
Were talkin bout the china grove
Oh, china grove
But every day theres a new thing comin
The ways of an oriental view
The sheriff and his buddies
With their samurai swords
You can even hear the music at night
And though its a part of the lone star state
People dont seem to care
They just keep on lookin to the east
Talkin bout the china grove
Oh, china grove
song performed by by Doobie Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Glorious Gown of Glimmering Gold
A glorious gown of glimmering gold
Encompasses one luminary globe
Against the sky of this still grove
The crickets moan in baritone
Their cellos serenade my soul
In a glorious gown of glimmering gold
Against the sky of this still grove
The light of fireflies erodes
One’s seemingly inert ego
Yet silhouettes still seem to show
The night is more than what’s foretold-
Against the sky of this still grove.
Though man is made in manifold-
He is among the truly whole-
A glorious gown of glimmering gold
Against the sky of this still grove.
poem by Lazarus Knix
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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bamboo grove
row and row of
uprightness
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The winter storm
The winter storm
Hid in the bamboo grove
And quieted away.
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Spring Grove Rockets
We are Spring Grove Rockets.
So pull that money out of your pockets.
Because you know that we can stop it you just love to watch us block it.
Because we are the SPRING GROVE ROCKETS
We launch our hearts from the start
So don't try to braek us apart
We are strong
We are brave
We've got you beaten
to the grave
SPRING GROVE ROCKETS
poem by Kayla Nace
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Moonlight slanting
Moonlight slanting
through the bamboo grove;
a cuckoo crying.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Bamboo Tunes and Cat Eyed Girl
In the murmuring evenings,
Cat eyed girl, worn ear-rings,
Stands by bamboo cluster,
Putting down pots of water.
Gilded bamboos sing and sway,
And the tired path becomes gay.
Bamboo hearts throb ever;
Unnamed tunes cease never.
Her bamboo throes resounded
In the gloomy wind unbounded.
Melodies of earth does shower
On her soul that does hover.
Finger tip of the wind brings
Sweet tunes from bamboo strings.
Music enters her inner grove,
Where the forlorn dreams rove.
Cuddled bamboos swing and say
What the lovers failed to say.
Never dying natural music
So keeps her hopes rhythmic.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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Bamboo Adobe
I sit along in the dark bamboo grove,
Playing the zither and whistling long.
In this deep wood no one would know -
Only the bright moon comes to shine.
poem by Wang Wei, translated by Liu Wu-chi
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Bamboo Bimbo
Well he caught his first whiff in the jungles
Ofnam
That slant-eyed catfish tasted better than mom
Now every single night she drops her big bomb
Cause hes a bamb00 bimbo
Those hook marks really show
Cause hes a bamboo bimb0
He went for it now everyone knows
Hes a bamboo bimb0
He caught his first glance in field and stream
That salt water taffy was a fishermans
Wet dream
Now every single night hes still gettin
That big ream
Cause hes a bamboo bimb0
He fell it and everyone knows
Hes a bamboo bimbo
Just a monkey with a ring in his nose
Hes a bambo0 bimbo
Cant say I never told ya so
Hes a bamboo bimb0
It go on and on and on
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peach Grove Next To Abbatoir
Next to an abbatoir
grows a peach grove.
The former has screams.
The latter is silent.
The slaughterhouse
stinks of blood and urine
and solid waste.
The peach grove is fragrant.
The slaughterhouse yields
a maximum 1000 pounds an acre of
food.
The peach grove yields in
trilevel agriculture four hundred
fifty thousand pounds an acre.
The slaughterhouse is labor
intensive and causes many worker
injuries and deaths.
The peach tree requires nothing
but a seed beneath dirt. The sun
and rain and mother earth
do the rest.
The slaughterhouse food causes
cancer, heart disease, food
poisoning, kidney failure, arthritis,
food poisoning fatalities.
The peach grove is God-designed.
poem by Saiom Shriver
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Retreat.....
AFTER You say the
truth, when the other merely
gives you nothing
but that
silly laughter
you shrink back into
a nook
becoming a creek
winding your way
back
under the
bamboo grove
Before you finally
recede into a thin surface of
sand
you take a glimpse of the
sky
to take the much needed
look of
the moon.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Grove Of Eglantine
Written by dennis deyoung
Lead vocals by dennis deyoung
Hey you there
Cast an eye this way
You with that young lust virgin smile
Dont pretend that youre quickly melting before my eyes
Thats a lie
cause I see all of you
Quite clearly now
I like our looks your moves you know everything
So when I ring you up in the evening I shall meet you
In the grove of eglantine
Just south of mans delight
Close to a soft flowing stream
In the grove of eglantine
We will join as lovers might
Between the lines of a dream
Your magic lips
Have made me realize
All of the pleasures man can fantasize
So dont pretend that youre sad to see me say goodbye
Thats a lie
Youre a wicked wench...ha
But thanks for all the laughs
You and your young lust virgin smile
And when Im gone for awhile
Ill once more want to meet you
In the grove of eglantine
Just south of mans delight
Close to a soft flowing stream
In the grove of eglantine
We will join as lovers might
Between the lines of a dream
In the grove of eglantine
Just south of mans delight
Close to a soft flowing stream
In the grove of eglantine
We will join as lovers might
Between the lines of a dream
In eglantine...of a dream (fade)
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Transformation Scene
A plain building was removed to a pleasant grove, and in a
few weeks it was transformed into the neatest frame
building in town.
As westward we of late did rove
We beheld in the maple grove
An old church now owned by Peter ;
In town there is no house looks neater,
For those bay windows do look sweeter
Than anything in prose or meter.
poem by James McIntyre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ash Grove
Half of the grove stood dead, and those that yet lived made
Little more than the dead ones made of shade.
If they led to a house, long before they had seen its fall:
But they welcomed me; I was glad without cause and delayed.
Scarce a hundred paces under the trees was the interval -
Paces each sweeter than the sweetest miles - but nothing at all,
Not even the spirits of memory and fear with restless wing,
Could climb down in to molest me over the wall
That I passed through at either end without noticing.
And now an ash grove far from those hills can bring
The same tranquillity in which I wander a ghost
With a ghostly gladness, as if I heard a girl sing
The song of the Ash Grove soft as love uncrossed,
And then in a crowd or in distance it were lost,
But the moment unveiled something unwilling to die
And I had what I most desired, without search or desert or cost.
poem by Edward Thomas
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A lone tree
A lone tree will not make a grove.
In a grove too, it stands itself.
A lone man makes no society.
In a society too, he stands himself.
27.12.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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And I Always Keep The Distance?
I remember one day you're standing
with an umbrella in a drizzle at the long dreamy bridge?
And the secret river of love flowed quietly.
It's a Moonlit night and I was not quite sure
Either you, Moon or someone else
danced with ripples?
Let me say again please
That I was the poor river bank
Under the lonely Bamboo grove
And I always keep the distance?
to John Nebaza who's from Uganda!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Us
The river in you moves
Taking the least resistance
You shall be the water
That seeks your own level
In calm and still moments
Let me fish
In your moments of rage
I shall be the rock
In the moments of your dryness
I shall be the river bed nearby
We shall be always here
I shall be the bamboo grove
And you shall be the waters of the creek
Slowly passing, gently flowing by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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342
The river in you moves
Taking the least resistance
You shall be the water
That seeks your own level
In calm and still moments
Let me fish
In your moments of rage
I shall be the rock
In the moments of your dryness
I shall be the river bed nearby
We shall be always here
I shall be the bamboo grove
And you shall be the waters of the creek
Slowly passing, gently flowing by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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