Everything comes to him who waits but a loaned book.
quote by Frank McKinney Hubbard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dynasty was the opportunity to take charge of my career rather than waiting around like a library book waiting to be loaned out.
quote by Joan Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time
Time waits for nobody
Time waits for nobody
We all must plan our hopes together
Or we'll have no more future at all
Time waits for nobody
We might as well be deaf and dumb and blind
I know that sounds unkind
But it seems to me we've not listened to
Or spoken about it at all
The fact that time is running out for us all
Time waits for nobody
Time waits for no-one
We've got to build this world together
Or we'll have no more future at all
Because time - it waits for nobody
You don't need me to tell you what's gone wrong (gone wrong gone wrong)
You know what's going on
But it seems to me we've not cared enough
Or confided in each other at all (confided in each other at all)
It seems that we've all got our backs against the wall
(Time) Time waits for nobody
(Time) waits for no-one
We've got to trust in one another
Or there'll be no more future at all
(Time)
Yeah - Time waits for nobody
No no - Time don't wait for no-one
Let's learn to be friends with one another
Or there'll be no more future at all
Time (time) time (time) waits for nobody waits for nobody
Time time time time waits for nobody at all
Time waits for nobody - yeah
Time don't wait - waits for no-one
Let us free this world for ever
And build a brand new future for us all
Time waits for nobody nobody nobody
For no-one
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Love and I
My love and I live by the sea
Where the sea breeze flows in your face
Where the the fish dance
In there mind with thee
And the crabs go flamenco with there clicks
I know somtimes my love waits for me
I know that she waits for me by the sea
My love somtimes goes cold on me
but i warm her up with a bit of sauce
I know my love waits for me
I know that she waits for me by the sea
My love and I often sit
Comfortably in are seats
In the front room
watching TV
Documentries gulore
And game shows in
I know that my love waits for me
I know that she waits for me by the sea
My love who waits for me by the sea
She is Fish and Chips
YOU SEE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
poem by Joe Sissens
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My God's Better Than Your God...
My god’s better than your god,
My special book tells me so,
It tells me how to think, who to love,
And how my life should go.
My god’s better than your god,
He waits only for me,
Your name’s not on his list,
You are my enemy.
My god’s better than your god,
His book is filled with truth,
Your book’s all wrong you see,
I have all the proof.
My god’s better than your god,
His ways are just and right,
His laws are like a roadmap,
That guide me to the light.
My god’s better than your god,
Yours is weird and wrong,
I have never heard of him,
And he’s been around too long.
My god’s better than your god,
He’s all shiny and real,
Your god belongs in hell,
He’s not the real deal.
My god’s better than your god,
Cause he's without sin,
You're a heathen non-believer,
Not good enough for him.
My god’s better than your god,
Yours has a silly name,
And your book is stupid,
Really dumb and lame.
I will go to heaven
Cause I'm better than you,
I can do anything,
I'm amongst the chosen few….
Cause my god’s better than your god,
You have to say its true,
Cause if you don’t,
My god will come,
And make you suffer till you do.
poem by Tina Louise
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My Masterpiece
It's slim and trim and bound in blue;
Its leaves are crisp and edged with gold;
Its words are simple, stalwart too;
Its thoughts are tender, wise and bold.
Its pages scintillate with wit;
Its pathos clutches at my throat:
Oh, how I love each line of it!
That Little Book I Never Wrote.
In dreams I see it praised and prized
By all, from plowman unto peer;
It's pencil-marked and memorized,
It's loaned (and not returned, I fear);
It's worn and torn and travel-tossed,
And even dusky natives quote
That classic that the world has lost,
The Little Book I Never Wrote.
Poor ghost! For homes you've failed to cheer,
For grieving hearts uncomforted,
Don't haunt me now. . . . Alas! I fear
The fire of Inspiration's dead.
A humdrum way I go to-night,
From all I hoped and dreamed remote:
Too late . . . a better man must write
That Little Book I Never Wrote.
poem by Robert William Service
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She Waits For Me
She waits for me
across a border
of which I cannot go
until I am called
by our lord and master,
the one who sees all.
She waits for me
in a place so far away
and I can hear her call to me
at the dusk of everyday.
One day I will join her
when my life has run its course.
Until that day comes to call,
she waits for me
where serenity waits for us all.
11 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Book Borrower
I am a mild man, you'll agree,
But red my rage is,
When folks who borrow books from me
Turn down their pages.
Or when a chap a book I lend,
And find he's loaned it
Without permission to a friend -
As if he owned it.
But worst of all I hate those crooks
(May hell-fires burn them!)
Who beg the loan of cherished books
And don't return them.
My books are tendrils of myself
No shears can sever . . .
May he who rapes one from its shelf
Be damned forever.
poem by Robert William Service
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One Great Event In Time
One little life, sent to change all lives.
One child of love and peace.
One holy blessing sent from God,
His wonders to increase.
One precious gift of a gentle Babe,
One marvel to the earth.
One dear voice to teach us how to know,
the reasons for his birth.
One star that shone with brilliant light,
One manger for his bed.
One Mother Mary so full of joy,
within loaned cattle shed.
One tiny soul came to save us all,
One dear Redeemer’s Son,
One man who walked, talked and healed,
His glory had begun.
One message from out our Master’s book
One lesson to be read.
One book of laws, shows the way to good,
to feast on Heaven’s bread.
One Christmas Day, one wondrous day.
One great event in time.
One treasure that we’ll never forget,
the Lord Jesus sublime.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Cold Wind Waits
though the frost is gone, the
cold wind waits.
the robin sings while the
cold wind waits.
a gentle breeze
now blows the wheat,
but a threat of rain
will change to sleet.
the summer slips and the
cold wind waits.
though the warm wind blows, the
cold wind waits.
the traffic crawls while the
cold wind waits.
it's dark too early,
winter too soon,
light of the sun
will change to moon.
the weather turns and the
cold wind waits.
(2011-Bolingbrook, IL)
poem by Mark Money
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Lazy Jane
Lazy
lazy
lazy
lazy
lazy
lazy
J ane.
She
wants
a
drink
of
water
so
she
waits
and
waits
and
waits
and
waits
and
waits
for
it
to
rain.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Somewhere My Baby Waits For Me
Mmm...
My life is through but I have no doubt
Someday I'll meet that someone I've dreamed about
He may live around the globe far across the sea
But somewhere my baby waits for me
The moment that I see him, my heart will know
Then I won't wait to tell him I love him so
He'll be mine to have and hold for whole eternity
Yeah, somewhere my baby waits for me
Oh, somewhere my baby waits for me
When I see lovers passing
I don't feel blue
I know the things they're feeling I'll be feeling too
I don't know where I'll meet him, I don't know when
I only know that someday my search will end
One fine day I'll turn around and there he will be
Yeah, somewhere my baby waits for me
He may live around the globe far across the sea
But somewhere my baby waits for me
Oh, somewhere my baby waits for me
song performed by by Lisa Stansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why.............?
The American book of 'why',
The Asian book of 'why',
The European book of 'why',
The African book of 'why',
The Australian book of 'why',
The most asked question in the valley of world events;
Especially when one explodes a bomb!
The Christian book of 'why',
The Muslim book of 'why',
The Jewish book of 'why',
The Hindu book of 'why',
The Krishna book of 'why',
lLife is like the yeast which makes the bread rise;
But, the writer always has his or her own mind.
The Pagan book of 'why',
The Buddhist book of 'why',
The Protestant book of 'why',
The Confucian book of 'why',
To all life's aspects with the remaining books of 'why';
Poetry is the literature that muses with the mind.
Shall the trumpet be blown in the city and,
The people will not be afraid?
Seven bulls and seven rams,
I am the planted tree by the rivers of waters.
I am very young in years but,
The word 'why' is the question that goes around easily.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Small Lamp
the small lamp
beside the bed in the empty room,
burns strong with silence,
and waits without reason.
the pawprint of the dog
beneath the window,
identifying emptiness.
and the broom in the corner,
stands ever on guard.
the book of passage unread,
urine stained sheets.
even god almighty
cant control the wind,
that blows through the window,
and fills the room.
while babies are born,
and wars are stopped.
yet the earth waits without breath,
for the coming of love!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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the Magic Forest. (Part Two, Stu's tale)
Said Stu the Gnu 'I am talking to you',
'I want you to listen to me',
'I'm certain you do' said the Blue Kangaroo,
'But I'm terribly late for my tea',
'Forget about tea and just listen to me''
'I've got something important to say',
'Tolstoy the Tiger has loaned me a book',
'About lands that exist far away'.
'I am happy for you' said the Blue Kangaroo,
'That Tiger's a wonderful soul',
'But can it not wait, till I've emptied my plate? ',
'It's got King Prawns and Chinese Spring Roll'.
'Oh well, if you must, ' said Stu the Gnu,
'But I think I've come up with a plan',
'So, finish your tea, then come over to me',
'And I'll tell you as much as I can'.
So Stu went off home and pored over the tome,
Which was all bound in purple and red,
It showed pictures of horses with black and white stripes,
These were Zebras, so Tolstoy had said.
Stu had lived in the forest, with all of his friends,
Ever since he was naught but a calf.
They had played silly games, calling each other names,
Telling jokes that made everyone laugh.
But sometimes, at night, when the Sun had gone down,
Stu would lie on his bed, and he'd muse;
That it might be the case, in a faraway place,
There were thousands of other Gnus.
So he went to see Tolstoy, whose knowledge was vast,
In every conceivable way,
He didn't pretend, he just told his good friend,
Of the thoughts he was having today.
'Now I may have a book, '
'Come on in and we'll look, '
'And I'll brew up some tea, if I may, '
'I'm grateful to you, ' returned Stu the Gnu,
'But I don't want to be in the way, '
'You could never be that, if you move my Top-Hat, '
'You can sit on that chair by the fire.'
'Then I'll hunt down that book, '
'And we'll both take a look, '
'Then decide if it's what you require.'
Tolstoy brewed tea, then said, 'Let me see, '
'It might just be under the bed, '
'If it's not, then I'm sure, it'll be by the door, '
'With the others that I have just read.'
Tolstoy rummaged around, and he very soon found,
A large book bound in purple and red,
He then opened it up, as he sipped from his cup,
'This is it, I am certain, ' he said.
'Yes, this is the book, come on over and look, '
'It may answer some questions for you, '
'There are pictures of Monkeys, and Zebras and Snakes, '
'And I'm sure that these here are Gnu.'
'Yes, thank you, ' said Stu, 'they are surely Gnu, '
'May I borrow this book for a while? '
'Yes, of course, friend, you may' Stu had heard Tolstoy say,
As he passed it across with a smile.
In the time that it took, Stu to study the book,
He had slowly developed a plan,
He knew of a Stoat who would rent him a boat,
That was how the adventure began.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
poem by Owain Glyn
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Something Left Undone
Labor with what zeal we will,
Something still remains undone,
Something uncompleted still
Waits the rising of the sun.
By the bedside, on the stair,
At the threshhold, near the gates,
With its menace or its prayer,
Like a medicant it waits;
Waits, and will not go away;
Waits, and will not be gainsaid;
By the cares of yesterday
Each to-day is heavier made;
Till at length the burden seems
Greater than our strength can bear,
Heavy as the weight of dreams
Pressing on us everywhere.
And we stand from day to day,
Like the dwarfs of times gone by,
Who, as Northern legends say,
On their shoulders held the sky.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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What is loaned will go away smiling and come back crying.
What is loaned goes away smiling but returns weeping.
Cremation - Ashes To Ashes
Well the coal-black sea waits for me-me-me
The coal-black sea waits forever
The waves hit the shore, crying more-more-more
But the coal-black sea waits forever
The tornados come up the coast they run
Hurricanes rip the sky forever
Through the weathers change, the sea remains the same
The coal-black sea waits forever
There are ashes split through collective guilt
People rest at sea forever
Since they burnt you up, collect you in a cup
For you the coal-black sea has no terror
Will your ashes float like some foreign boat
Or will they sink absorbed forever
Will the atlantic coast, have its final boast
Nothing else contained you ever
Now the coal-black sea waits for me-me-me
The coal-black sea waits forever
When I leave this joint at some further point
The same coal-black sea will it be waiting
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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