A little and a little, collected together, becomes a great deal; the heap in the barn consists of single grains, and drop and rop makes an inundation.
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A little and a little, collected together, become a great deal; the heap in the barn consists of single grains, and drop and drop makes an inundation.
A little and a little, collected together, becomes a great deal; the heap in the barn consists of single grains, and drop and drop makes an inundation.
A little and a little, collected together, becomes a great deal; the heap in the barn consists of single grains, and drop and drop make the inundation.
What Is A Barn?
A barn is many things-
A barn is a fun place
To run, romp, and play.
It is also a place of refuge,
On hot or stormy days.
A barn is a storage place
For all your tools, grain, and hay.
It is also a place to unwind,
When you have had a tough day.
A barn becomes God's sanctuary,
When you begin to pray
It is also a place of work,
When work is needing done.
A barn is a place
Where freindships can be made
It is also a place
Where new life is born.
A barn is a place
To try with all your might
And finally when its doors are closed,
'Tis safety from the night.
A barn is a place for horses,
And it is a place for cows
A barn is also a hayloft,
Full of little meows
A barn is the Inn
Where our Savior was born
God, our Savior,
Christ, our Lord.
A barn is a work place,
A barn is a play place
A barn is a great place
A barn is a training ring...
A barn is..
Well, when it comes right
Down to it,
A barn is everything!
poem by Macy Dvirnak
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The Barn and the Down
t stood in the sunset sky
Like the straight-backed down,
Many a time - the barn
At the edge of town,
So huge and dark that it seemed
It was the hill
Till the gable's precipice proved
It impossible.
Then the great down in the west
Grew into sight,
A barn stored full to the ridge
With black of night;
And the barn fell to a barn
Or even less
Before critical eyes and its own
Late mightiness.
But far down and near barn and I
Since then have smiled,
Having seen my new cautiousness
By itself beguiled
To disdain what seemed the barn
Till a few steps changed
It past all doubt to the down;
So the barn was avenged.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Ch 08 On Rules For Conduct In Life - Maxim 42
Who has renounced appetites for the sake of approbation by men has fallen from licit into illicit appetites.
A devotee who sits in a corner not for God’s sake
Is helpless. What can he see in a dark mirror?
Little by little becomes much and drop by drop will be a torrent; that is to say, he who has no power gathers small stones that he may at the proper opportunity annihilate the pride of his foe.
Drop upon drop collected will make a river.
Rivers upon rivers collected will make a sea.
Little and little together will become much.
The granary is but grain upon grain.
Liberality consists less in giving a great deal than in gifts well-timed.
quote by Jean de la Bruyere
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bop 'Til You Drop
Bop 'til you drop
Bop 'til you drop
Bop 'til you drop
Bop 'til you drop
No matter what
You just can't stop
Bop 'til you drop
Bop 'til you drop
Stick'em up
Give me your money
You act like a big shot
But you're really a dummy
They want your blood
They want every drop
Bop 'til you drop
Bop 'til you drop
Hey!
You tried and tried
But you're a flop
You're thirty five
Still pushing a mop
No time to cop
Do the cretin hop
Bop 'til you drop
Bop 'til you drop
song performed by by Ramones from Halfway To Sanity
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over so in a series of kindness there is at last one which makes the heart run over.
quote by Samuel Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Red Barn
There was once...
a red barn..
And there
was nothing in
it.
All there was
in the red
barn was just
hay.
And that was all
there was in
there.
The poor red barn
was on its own.
Nobody owns it.
So the red barn
is by itself.
poem by Lisa Parks
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The Bee
THE BEE
The busy bee
From tree to tree
Makes us see
That a body wee
Has also tremendous energy.
From the tree top
And from crop to crop
The bee does hop
The honey to prop
Drop by drop.
Like the bee to feel
With enormous zeal
And buzz with even keel
And to meticulously deal
Dear God, before thee, I kneel.
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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The Sound Of Water
Tons of water down the drain
Taking those long showers again;
More water splashing in the sink
Only for brushing,
Please stop and think.
Those multiple flushings
Down the bowl
Make you a disrespectful troll
Suffice it to say
Water is a “luxury”
To have each day.
Till now,
Conservation never appealed
But not having any,
Suddenly makes it a big deal.
Water is priceless
When you're in a drought
Some don't have any
And are running out.
So please be mindful
Try not to waste;
It’s quite precious
Every single drop,
You never know
What a gift water is
Until one day it stops.
poem by Carolyn Brunelle
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A hitch makes a calf, a sty makes a pig, the open field makes lamb, the hay barn makes a kid goat.
Bop til You Drop
Bop til you drop
Bop til you drop
Bop til you drop
Bop til you drop
No matter what you just cant stop
Bop til you drop
Bop til you drop
Stickem up give me your money
You act like a big shot but youre really a dummy
They want your blood they want every drop
Bop til you drop
Bop til you drop
Hey!
You tried and tried but youre a flop
Youre thirty five still pushing a mop
No time to cop do the cretin hop
Bop til you drop
Bop til you drop
song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Living as single
Endowed with the flow of money,
Woman might think of living alone
With no need of a man's supports.
It looks fancy to live single.
Her preference for money comes
As unilaterally can
She deal with money
With no compromises called for.
In a company with a man,
Bilaterally she has to
Deal with him, cutting the freedom
That she is enjoying as single.
She can't dispense with men outdoor
In profession and relations.
To be living single indoor
And not outdoor is a duel act.
She gets a personality
That impacts her integrity,
And questions her capacity
To deal with men in a circuit.
Sans emotional attachment,
Physical attachment with men
Will leave a woman high and dry
When she has lost her stickiness.
18.07.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Painful Wail
Consumed with grief I am, I get relief in no way
O circumambient waters of the Ganges drown me
Our land foments excessive mutual enmity
What unity! Our closeness harbors separation
Enmity instead of sincerity is outrageous
Enmity among the same barn's grains is outrageous
If the brotherly breeze has not entered in a garden
No pleasure can be derived from songs in that garden
Though I exceedingly love the real closeness
I am upset by the mixing of waves and the shore
The miraculous poet is like the grain from the barn
The grain has no existence if there is no barn
How can beauty unveil itself if no one is anxious for sight
Lighting of the candle is meaningless if there is no assembly
Why does the taste for speech not change to silence
Why does this brilliance not appear out from my mirror
Alas! My tongue poured its speech down
When war's fire had burnt the garden down
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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Pastoral Malaise
In time, though snow would fall, barn will be warm,
As chores for Summer had been done complete
The sleepy spell that soon befalls the farm
Could not, by slightest bit its mirth deplete
The cows have all the hay on which to feed
With grains that with the fodder would enmesh
If hay is brown, I guess what cows would need
For each a green eyeglass, so things look fresh
The barn sparrows found crevices for nests
Though naught are seen by cat's eyes that explore
One way to find if flock thereat still rests
Is by droppings that scatter on the floor
Insects abide, in sizes big and small
And crawl among the bales, to chirp or play
Crickets and kin, that since the end of Fall
Have lodged as ground tenants without delay
As ants have piled a great mound of their own
In maze of subways, sans a subway train
The matriarchal state nature has shown
Bonded together on a female brain.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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Hour Glass
As grains start to fall, everything is new.
Nothing is known about what to do.
As the pile of grains continues to grow,
It seems easier to know which way to go.
When grains approach a quarter of the way,
Things appear less black and white versus an earlier day.
But the world is exciting and there’s plenty of time.
Any thoughts of the hour glass give way to the sublime.
Pleasure, money, power and love battle for share,
While the grains at the top become increasingly rare.
At half way flowing grains take on a resounding force,
Though few pay attention as they race on their course.
Mental and physical factors band together as reminders,
But many still prefer to continue using their blinders.
As the grains accumulate to their three quarters state,
The niave and unprepared are in for a sad, brutal fate.
They still act as if they have power over the grains and the glass.
Nothing could be more wrong as the last few grains pass.
For matter not the importance or the manner of any man
When his last grain falls, the hour glass won’t turn over again.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Single Is Fair
Single
I am single
Question of double
Does not arise.
I am single
Only single.
Single sun
Single moon
Single earth
Single air
Single sky
Sngle water
Single fire
Single soul
Single body
All are there
All are fair.
Single is single
Single is beautiful
Single is fair.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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An Old Barn By The Side Of The Fields Of Hay
an old barn by the side of the fields of hay
is nothing but an old barn to your eyes
miguelito
this barn has been here ten years ago and it will be here
for another more years with you
father always
had it repaired before he died and when i take charge
i still come here and think once in a while
what is in this barn
that refuses to be broken
something that negates
the art of losing
it is the memory of my youth
it was here where the hay smelt pungent
for the first time
it was here when i was first
deflowered
changed
don't laugh, it was here that i felt
the first squirt of
my manhood, and her name was not that important
in fact,
she was laughing because i was trembling and she was
so crazy
trying to really teach me, in this old barn that refuses to be broken
in all the years
when our father teased us: weaklings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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