A good backside will easily find a bench to sit on.
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A Place To Sit
Smoochers and snoggers, and resting joggers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Ramblers and walkers, and street hawkers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Mini’s and Roller’s, and lady strollers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Old folk and young folk, and dogs with no folk
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Market traders and cavers, and money savers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Children that play who meet everyday
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Students and teachers, and lay preachers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Loose women and boys the ‘for sale’ toys
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Addicts and dealers, and police squealers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Dogs out for a pee who can’t find a tree
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Drunks in the night who like to fight
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Spray painters and doodlers, and bench abusers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Vandals and hooligans, and booted ruffians
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Demolishers and breakers, and obliterators
never stopped until they destroyed this concrete bench.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Backside Of Thirty
They say when you reach
the backside of thirty;
a midlife crisis looms in the air.
Midlife crisis!
Now what the hell is that?
Is it like the flu,
or a summer cold?
If it is, then I had mine,
When I got married
So many years ago.
So what happens?
When you reach the backside of forty.
Is it another midlife crisis,
or are you over the hill there?
Don’t ask me, I don’t know.
A government official once told me,
At the age of forty,
I was too far gone for repair.
That I was on the downward stretch.
Well here I am at sixty two,
and I’ve seen the backside of fifty.
But who really cares?
Your as young as you feel,
and I still feel like a little kid.
I go away at weekend
and play cowboys and Indians,
but in my case it is vicars and Indians
that’s why they call me Dodgy Dave.
Who cares if I’m a blatant fool,
I’m enjoying my life while I got it.
My advise to you,
is when you hit the backside of thirty,
you do the same as I do.
Act a little crazy,
and enjoy everyday you got.
13 June 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A good armchair makes the backside soft and the heart hard.
Tell Me Whats So Good About Goodbye
(allen henson, keith palmer)
I thought love was meant to last forever
Isnt that how loves supposed to be
Now it seems the good times are all over
Its so funny I guess the jokes on me
Every day I sit alone and wonder
Why I fell in love so easily
And then woke up to find that all he left behind
Are tattered dreams and broken pieces in my memory
So tell me whats so good about goodbye
Whats so good about watching good love die
Hes the kind you cant forget
So I wont even try
Tell me whats so good
I gave him all I could
Tell me whats so good about goodbye
I dont think Ill ever love another
I didnt know that goodbye could hurt so bad
I know Ill always find hes somewhere in my mind
Still believe the worst of hims the best Ill ever have
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ace
By: jimmy buffett
1971
Hardly seems a long time
Just a minute of the day
But the man who stood beside me
More than gave himself away
The food stain on his spotted shirt
A gray beard on his face
A man composed of many names
So i just called him ace
Chorus:
But ace can't read and ace can't write
And he sleeps on a bench at night
A little man the world has left behind
He ain't bitter, he ain't sweet
Makes his living on the street
Never knowing what he's gonna find
Born in mississippi
Picking cotton as a child
Left soon for the city
Where he heard that life was wild
That was fifty years ago
When nothing's really strange
>from a poor dirt farm to dirty streets
Is really not much change
Chorus:
And ace can't read and ace can't write
And he sleeps on a bench at night
A little man the world has left behind
He ain't bitter, he ain't sweet
Makes his living on the street
Never knowing what he's gonna find
Go back to the country
No he really can't do that
Wasted years have left him
Nothing but an old straw hat
So he puts it on his head
And waves a last good-bye
No time left to turn around
And no time to ask why
Chorus:
Ace can't read and ace can't write
And he sleeps on a bench at night
A little man the world has left behind
He ain't bitter, he ain't sweet
Makes his living on the street
Never knowing what he's gonna find
And this old world has left poor ace behind
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bench
Sitting on a bench watching people go by.
Smiles and frowns, Stares and glares
Wondering what they are thinking?
Is it me greeting them one by one
Or me sitting on a bench.
The seat of comfort and distractions
a place to think and read
Feed the birds, Friendly chats
Surprising hellos, A lot of old fellows
wanting the seat, for they are beat!
Everyone's favorite seat
The bench of life
poem by Michael Peterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Man
The old man sat on a park bench
just watching the people pass by.
He did it day after day
alone in everyone's eyes.
He would smile occasionally
but no one ever knew why.
Everyone who saw him
wondered why he sat so still
and just looked out
at everyone who passed him there.
The old man sat in repose
from dawn until dusk fell.
He sat there in the summer sun
and as winter's bleakness fell.
He looked for some face
he might remember from his past
so they could reminisce for a while.
Sadly, the years slipped away.
Everyone spoke about him,
but no one ventured to talk.
Then one day the old man
wasn't on the park bench
and he was nowhere to be seen.
Now a different question was asked.
Day after day, the bench was empty.
Where had the old man gone?
Had he simply passed away?
The questions remained unanswered
because no one ever stopped
to enquire of his name.
I would like to think
that in the dying hours
on the park bench one day
that he had found
what he was waiting for
and then happily he faded away.
12 July 2012
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good fame is like fire; when you have kindled you may easily preserve it; but if you extinguish it, you will not easily kindle it again.
quote by Francis Bacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Regard your good name as the richest jewel you can possibly be possessed of - for credit is like fire; when once you have kindled it you may easily preserve it, but if you once extinguish it, you will find it an arduous task to rekindle it again. The way to gain a good reputation is to endeavor to be what you desire to appear.
Regard your good name as the richest jewel you can possibly be possessed of - for credit is like fire when once you have kindled it you may easily preserve it, but if you once extinguish it, you will find it an arduous task to rekindle it again. The way to gain a good reputation is to endeavor to be what you desire to appear.
Dont Give Up Easily
(hicks)
If a foolish fool like me
Can read you easily
Then something must be wrong
Somethings different when we speak
It seems the past few weeks
Our loves not been so strong
Lovers have always had this problem
Ask anyone, youll see
Weve got to hang on til it passes
Dont give up easily
If we say whats on our minds,
Wed save a lot of time
Dont give up easily
I know youre feeling bad
Sometimes I make you sad
But when youre feeling sad,
Im feeling just as bad
During the good times its so easy
You are in love like me
Sometimes we feel we want to leave it
Dont give up easily
If we say whats on our minds,
Wed save a lot of time
Dont give up easily
Ask anyone, youll see
Theyll say the same as me
Dont give easily
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I respect people who feel things passionately. I do. But when someone is a judge, that is not what they should bring to the bench. It is not really passion, except in rare instances, that serves the bench well. It is, rather, an ability to understand the law and follow it.
quote by Charles Schumer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pout On
IwishthatIcouldrushtoyouandmakeitokay,
ButIcan'tdothatbecauseyou'renotfeelingthatway .
IwishthatIcouldrushtoyouandmakeitokay,
ButIcan'tdothatbecauseyou'renotfeelingthatway .
You rather whine about these times.
Just sitting on your backside finding time to sigh.
You rather whine about these times.
Just sitting on your backside finding time to sigh.
IwishthatIcouldrushtoyouandmakeitoka y,
ButIcan'tdothatbecauseyou'renotfeelingthatway .
IwishthatIcouldrushtoyouandmakeitokay,
ButIcan'tdothatbecauseyou'renotfeelingthatway .
You rather whine about these times.
Just sitting on your backside finding time to sigh.
You rather whine about these times.
Just sitting on your backside finding time to sigh.
Pout on.
Pout on.
Like the others who are shouting 'bout lost pennies in their pots!
Pout on.
Pout on.
Like the others who are shouting 'bout lost pennies in their pots!
IwishthatIcouldrushtoyouandmakeitokay,
ButIcan'tdothatbecauseyou'renotfeelingthatway .
IwishthatIcouldrushtoyouandmakeitokay,
ButIcan'tdothatbecauseyou'renotfeelingthatway .
You rather whine about these times.
Just sitting on your backside finding time to sigh.
You rather whine about these times.
Just sitting on your backside finding time to sigh.
You rather whine about these times.
Just sitting on your backside finding time to sigh.
You rather whine about these times.
Just sitting on your backside finding time to sigh.
Pout on.
Pout on.
Like the others who are shouting 'bout lost pennies in their pots!
IwishthatIcouldrushtoyouandmakeitokay,
ButIcan'tdothatbecauseyou'renotfeelingthatway .
You rather whine about these times.
Just sitting on your backside finding time to sigh.
Pout on.
Pout on.
Like the others who are shouting 'bout lost pennies in their pots!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Invisible
Did you spot the girl
Who sat all alone,
On a bench in a playground
Outcast and unknown? ......
The mates meet up early
To recall and recite
From the programmes they watched
On the previous night
The girl on the bench
Her eyes dart pensively
She doesn't join in
As she has no tv
The mates meet for break
Strong opinions they share
On what clothes they like
Trends in labels to wear
The girl on the bench
Turns away in her shame
She doesn't join in
Shabby clothes on her frame
The mates meet for lunch
The school rings with loud prattle
The alpha females
Choose a cage they can rattle
The girl on the bench
muted through her own choice
She doesn't join in
scared of her own small voice
The mates have a moan
At their parents restrictions
Loving guardian's angst
They interpret as friction.
The girl on the bench
Knows the deal she's been dealt
She doesn't join in
Little love has she felt
The mates gather up
Final bell has been rung
The school empties out
All except one...........
The girl on the bench
Sadly stands and walks home
How she longs to fit in
And not feel so alone.
poem by Stevie Taite
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lucky In Love
You look so good to me, you never change
Lord has it really been so long
Somehow old mystery, dont matter now
Or who was right, and who was wrong
We can make a new memory, of you and me
cause Im losing the ones I been using too long on my own
We can take it like it ought to be, so easily
When you luck into lucky lovin you leave it alone
Feel this heart of mine,
Lord cant you see how bad that we been missin you
These days its hard to find, or make-
Believe, any dreams worth comin true
We can take it to eternity, you and me
cause were better together than well ever be on our own
We can make like it ought to be, so easily
When you luck into lucky lovin you leave it alone
We can make a new memory, of you and me
cause Im losing the ones I been using too long on my own
We can make it like it ought to be, so easily
When you luck into lucky lovin you leave it alone
song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Erin's Idea of Me
If you read this, and find it's not my usual style, you're correct. This is a poem my best friend wrote about me and I liked the odd quirks and pretty imagery she used. Of course, I'm biased. Anyway, I played with her lines and broke them up to give them a different feel. Let me know what you think and I'll let her know!
How can I tell you and make you
believe that the curve of your
hip and the plateau of your
backside is no less than
those Botticelli transcribed?
How can I tell you and make
you believe that that
slightly arched eyebrow
and ever pondering eye
trying to find meaning
in a hopeless epic is no
less than beautiful?
How can I tell you and make
you believe the fact that
your laugh, at once
light-hearted and ever
well-intentioned is the
soundtrack of your
audible heart?
poem by Delilah Miller
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Noots
today is too late
how long do we have to wait
oh no, i think she knows
that's why i can't let go
i feel this burning inside
a feeling that no one should know
this could be so good again
i'd wait here till then
but not with this
so now i'll leave with
no apologies
i never thought you'd be so
easily decieved
now i'll just hang my head (falling further out of place)
along with the dead (don't know what/why i can't replace)
we're mad with regret
memories that we'll both forget
so far it's been so hard
to cover up these scars
i see this falling apart
it's easy to just let it go
no luck between us both
so i keep waiting
but not with this
so now i'll leave with
no apologies
i never thought you'd be so
easily decieved
now i'll just hang my head (falling further out of place)
along with the dead (don't know what/why i can't replace)
what's left to show
it's so bad but i got to know
what's right don't know
how to find it out on my own
one by one we all fall down
who's the first one to hit the ground now
what's worse to kick or fall
or be suss standing alone
ill keep your promises if you
take back every thing i said
i find its got so cold now
that i've lost my heart and soul
no apologies
i never thought you'd be so
easily decieved
now i'll just hang my head (falling further out of place)
along with the dead (don't know what/why i can't replace)
i'll just hang my head
hang my head
song performed by by Sum 41
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memories On A Park Bench
He sat on a park bench
just to pass the time away
when he saw her there
from the corner of his eye.
She was older now,
but her beauty had not faded.
She turned in his direction
and he smiled at her.
At first, she looked at him strangely
until there was recognition.
She smiled back
and then joined him.
They sat there on the park bench
the sun smiling down on them
as the daffodils swayed in the breeze.
For both of them came a flood
of memories of when they were young
before the world spirited them away.
Both had walked down many roads,
had some hard knocks along the way.
Both recalled them now
the way old friends meeting do.
As they sat there
recalling memories from happier days.
All too soon they would be parting
and as they would go,
they would take with them
a little of each other
in the form of memories
that they acquired on a park bench.
5 April 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Well, you know, Pudge Rodriguez, obviously is as good as it gets.
quote by Johnny Bench
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dream
My eyes opened,
And I was in a cemented cube.
Filled with materials that had no life.
I tried speaking to each surface,
To each curve, to each angle…
But there was no possible communication.
No exchange of energy…
Nothing.
Only the simple image,
That was easily distinguished in my mind.
Easily bendable, easily distorted.
The relationship between I,
And the inside of this cube…
…Was a superficial one.
It taught me nothing valuable,
Since the objects seemed to find themselves
To be of enough value.
This made me joyless and lonesome.
I did not find any meaning inside
The cube.
So I carried my body out of it.
And life rushed into me.
My senses now had purpose.
My body became the object…
The tangible force,
Which carries the light in me.
This light of one light.
Single energy,
That inhabits all that is living.
It was in that moment,
That I began to live.
poem by Erica Borges
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