Better walk on wooden legs, than be carried on a wooden bier.
Related quotes
A person who can't pay gets another person who can't pay to guarantee that he can pay. Like a person with two wooden legs getting another person with two wooden legs to guarantee that he has got two natural legs. It don't make either of them able to do a walking-match.
quote by Charles Dickens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
(Hide and seek)
My father gets the wooden stick
he counts from five
i run and hide...
My father is coming with the wooden stick
he counts from four
i close my bedroom door...
My father is looking for me with the wooden stick
he counts from three
as he searches for me...
My father is close by with the wooden stick
he counts from two
my face turns blue...
My father is right next to me
with the wooden stick
he counts from one
now i'm done...
My father finds me
with the wooden stick
he counts from zero
...yes i know, i'm in trouble...
My father says
'there you are!
i found you
now it's your turn to count
and my turn to hide'
...and the game continued...
poem by Allen Steble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Only You
We suffer everyday, what is it for
These crimes of illusion, are fooling us all
And now I am weary and I feel like I do
Its only you, who can tell me apart
And its only you, who can turn my wooden heart
The size of our fight, its just a dream
Weve crushed everything I can see, in this morning selfishly
How weve failed and I feel like I do
Its only you, who can tell me apart
And its only you, who can turn my wooden heart
Now that weve chosen to take all we can
This shade of autumn, a stale bitter end
Years of frustration lay down side by side
And its only you, who can tell me apart
And its only you, who can turn my wooden heart
Its only you, who can tell me apart
And its only you, who can turn my wooden heart
song performed by by Portishead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
In 1843
My love will touch you like your wooden spoon!
My mind will teach you like your wooden ladder,
My words will touch you like your wooden bowl,
But, to be speechless in lkife will lead you nowhere.
The first 'Christmas card' was invented and designed in 1843! !
So before 1843 there was no 'Christmas Cards' as seen around us today;
Howevr, i am like an old man along the sea of love telling you the truth,
So, you can't run away from your own self! When, the truth is around you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wooden Heart
(words & music by wise - weisman - twomey - kaemfert)
Can't you see
I love you
Please don't break my heart in two
That's not hard to do
'cause i don't have a wooden heart
And if you say goodbye
Then i know that i would cry
Maybe i would die
'cause i don't have a wooden heart
There's no strings upon this love of mine
It was always you from the start
Treat me nice
Treat me good
Treat me like you really should
'cause i'm not made of wood
And i don't have a wooden heart
Muss i denn, muss i denn
Zum stadtele hinaus
Stadtele hinaus
Und du, mein schat, bleibst hier?
There's no strings upon this love of mine
It was always you from the start
Sei mir gut
Sei mir gut
Sei mir wie du wirklich sollst
Wie du wirklich sollst
'cause i don't have a wooden heart
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
There was a man who earned a forest
Just by riding a wooden pony
He cut off its legs and went to a florist
To sell them for a lot of money
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Bonfire
After this I gather a wooden stick collection,
Burning the sticks of wooden nature.
A fire has rudely devoured the flesh of my world,
The later periods have contrived a short pause.
Please do not desist this activity, when you gather wood,
For my father has been the future, living like warmth
And this fire is within the layers to bind it,
The soul is mighty with grief, the soul has cancer
Of the brain, as for this world.
The fire has risen into the sky, like it is a bonfire
For all to see and imagine, for my father loved the sky
At night when the wooden sticks were burnt
To remind him of the variety of afterlife.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Where I Live in This Honorable House of the Laurel Tree
I live in my wooden legs and O
my green green hands.
Too late
to wish I had not run from you, Apollo,
blood moves still in my bark bound veins.
I, who ran nymph foot to foot in flight,
have only this late desire to arm the trees
I lie within. The measure that I have lost
silks my pulse. Each century the trickeries
of need pain me everywhere.
Frost taps my skin and I stay glossed
in honor for you are gone in time. The air
rings for you, for that astonishing rite
of my breathing tent undone within your light.
I only know how untimely lust has tossed
flesh at the wind forever and moved my fears
toward the intimate Rome of myth we crossed.
I am a fist of my unease
as I spill toward the stars in the empty years.
I build the air with the crown of honor; it keys
my out of time and luckless appetite.
You gave me honor too soon, Apollo.
There is no one left who understands
how I wait
here in my wooden legs and O
my green green hands.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wooden Heart
As the fire warms my eyes
I cannot not burn myself
Inside
As the cold hands all my cries
I cannot not loosen the flaws I have, hold
Inside
As I use some wood to make my heart
I throw the blooming flowers in the fire
that grow from my wooden heart apart
And those sticks I hold between my broken hands
I throw them in the remaining cold
The flames as they slowly eat my grown respect
The fright that fearlessly warms my eyes
I' ve learnt to appreciate my multiple faces
Respect my wooden hearts all the exhausted made-up tears
I've been taught how to show gracious respect to my clothes made of laces
And how to be incapable to bare my nudity inside the cold
In the weirdest crowded and vacant places
Between all the exhausted made up cries
And their coldest faces
I bleed, I'm touched
I feel moved like I'm taking far too much
I tear as I let the fire stop
I'll burn my heart
My wooden heart
And as I lie
I'll let the freezing cold
Regain my trust
And burn me till I die
I burn my wooden heart
At last i get control now
In my wooden
paralyzed
cold
hand.
poem by Katerina Val
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wooden Heart
Cant you see I love you?
Please dont break my heart in two
Thats not hard to do cause I dont have a wooden heart
And if you say good-bye
Then I know that I would cry
Maybe I would die cause I dont have a woooden heart
Theres no strings upon this love of mine
It was always you from the start
Treat me nice treat me good
Treat me like you really should
Cause Im not made of wood and I dont have a wooden heart
Treat me nice treat me good treat me like you really should
Cause Im not made of wood and I dont have a wooden heart
No I dont have a wooden heart
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Hum
Take me, share me if you can
my heart goes to my sun,
my feet will go to my moon.
O, little home
my dream was bigger than you
in the melody of sorrow.
Will I walk again on the
wrinkled sands? what can you
visualize, which I have never seen?
Praying in the scoop
of fingers I feel, gold nuggets
in the throes of doubts –
neatly dug out from the frozen
past, birds, smelling sex, souls
suspended in air.
Was it beginning of hate,
on the yellow mountains
where I am climbing with wooden legs?
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sex Ridden Figures Die Hard.
On the wooden wall of the wooden room
At Erumely, as far back as 1965,
I hung a monthly calendar for the picture
Of Vyjayantimala in sitting posture,
Her chin resting on her left hand,
A pose still fresh in my memory,
So fresh to draw it off hand, after four decades.
Sexual symbol is too strong to erase.
31.12.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Faithless Nelly Gray
A Pathetic Ballad
Ben Battle was a soldier bold,
And used to war's alarms;
But a cannon-ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms.
Now as they bore him off the field,
Said he, 'Let others shoot;
For here I leave my second leg,
And the Forty-second Foot.'
The army-surgeons made him limbs:
Said he, 'They're only pegs;
But there's as wooden members quite,
As represent my legs.'
Now Ben he loved a pretty maid, --
Her name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devours,
When he devoured his pay.
But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off.
'O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!'
Is this your love so warm?
The love that loves a scarlet coat
Should be a little more uniform.
Said she, ' I loved a soldier once,
For he was blithe and brave;
But I will never have a man
With both legs in the grave
'Before you had those timber toes
Your love I did allow;
But then, you know, you stand upon
Another footing now.'
'O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!
For all your jeering speeches,
At duty's call I left my legs
In Badajos's breaches.'
'Why, then,' said she, 'you've lost the feet
Of legs in war's alarms,
And now you cannot wear your shoes
Upon your feats of arms!'
'O false and fickle Nelly Gray!
I know why you refuse:
Though I've no feet, some other man
Is standing in my shoes.
'I wish I ne'er had seen your face;
But, now, a long farewell!
For you will be my death' -- alas!
You will not be my Nell!'
Now when he went from Nelly Gray
His heart so heavy got,
And life was such a burden grown,
It made him take a knot.
So round his melancholy neck
A rope he did intwine,
And, for his second time in life,
Enlisted in the Line.
One end he tied around a beam,
And then removed his pegs;
And, as his legs were off -- of course
He soon was off his legs.
And there he hung till he was dead
As any nail in town;
For, though distress had cut him up,
It could not cut him down.
A dozen men sat on his corpse,
To find out why he died, --
And they buried Ben in four cross-roads
With a stake in his inside.
poem by Thomas Hood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Ode for David
Inspiration
From a lopsided table?
Words written down
Told as a fable
Strange request you have
My dear friend
Inspiration I will find
This I do intend
Wooden Table
Possess my tongue
Wintered table
Cry from my lungs
Pen striking paper
You shall be my muse
May the bleeding ink
Cry of your blues
Splintered skin
In a corner rest forgotten
Winding legs
You stand wild as cotton
Pen stroke slide
Across your lofty floor
Three legs you stand
When you should have four
Awkward table
You have no friend
Ancient table
You've reached your bitterend
Should my pen learn sea legs
I'd love you once more
But, on three legs you stand
When you should have four
poem by Kay Gardner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Good-By To The Cradle
GOOD-BY to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,
The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside:
No more to its motion, o'er Sleep's fairy ocean,
Our play-weary wayfarers peacefully glide;
No more by the rhythm of slow-moving rocker
Their sweet, dreamy fancies are fostered and fed;
No more to low singing the cradle goes swinging--
The child of this era is put into bed!
Good-by to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,--
It lent to the twilight a mystical charm:
When bees left the clover, when playtime was over,
How safe seemed this shelter from danger and harm;
How soft seemed the pillow, how distant the ceiling,
How weird were the voices that whispered around;
What dreams would come flocking as, rocking and rocking,
We floated away into slumber profound.
Good-by to the cradle, the old wooden cradle,
The babe of the day does not know it by sight;
When day leaves the border, with system and order
The child goes to bed, and we put out the light.
I bow to Progression; and ask no concession,
Though strewn be her pathway with wrecks of the Past.
So off with old lumber, that sweet ark of slumber,
The dear wooden cradle, is ruthlessly cast.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wooden Ships
Their sails fluttered in the prevailing winds
as the wooden ships sailed into the horizons
looking for new lands to conquer.
Across oceans with waters unknown
in days when some thought
the world was flat
and if you sailed so far out
you just simply fell off.
The sailors were superstitious
seeing monsters in most living things.
A giant squid became a Kraken
and a myth of ocean lore.
However, these sailors were brave men
and against dangers unknown sailed
to chart new lands
many thought did not exist.
Some went for riches;
others went on a voyage of discovery.
Some came back to tell tall tales.
While other went down in their wooden ships
as in perilous waters sailed,
and slowly the world was discovered
by these sailors in wooden ships.
11 July 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Old Wooden Cradle
Good-bye to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle
The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside.
No more to its motion o’er sleep’s fairy ocean,
Our play-weary wayfarers peacefully glide.
No more by the rhythm of slow-moving rocker,
Their sweet dreamy fancies are fostered and fed;
No more to low singing the cradle goes swinging –
The child of this era is put into bed.
Good-bye to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,
It lent to the twilight a strange, subtle charm;
When bees left the clover, when play-time was over,
How safe seemed this shelter from danger or harm.
How soft seemed the pillow, how distant the ceiling,
How weird were the voices that whispered around,
What dreams would come flocking, as rocking and rocking,
We floated away into slumber profound.
Good-bye to the cradle, the old wooden cradle,
The babe of to-day does not know it by sight.
When day leaves the border, with system and order,
The child goes to bed and we put out the light.
I bow to Progression and ask no concession,
Though strewn be her pathway with wrecks of the past;
So off wit old lumber, that sweet ark of slumber,
The old wooden cradle, is ruthlessly cast.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Imagine this guy hits Mike Hammer over the head with a wooden coathanger and knocks him out. You hit Mike Hammer over the head with a wooden coathanger, he'll beat the crap out of you.
quote by Mickey Spillane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Room In My Heart
My heart was once just like a home
With many rooms and open doors
And I always let love in
It would change the rooms around and then
Leave them empty
'Til one by one I locked each door
And soon forgot what love was for
But I never gave up hopin'
So I left just one door open
In case you found me
So there's a room in my heart for you
If your trust has been stolen too
If you walk softly on this worn out wooden floor
And leave behind you the hurt you've had before
There's a room in my heart for you
We'll paint the walls from blue to white
And set the mood by candlelight
Together we'll keep out the cold
And I'll still be there when we're old
If you'll let me
So there's a room in my heart for you
If your trust has been stolen too
If you walk softly on this worn out wooden floor
And leave behind you the hurt you've had before
There's a room in my heart for you
song performed by by Faith Hill from It Matters To Me
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
While She Walked In The Sun In Guatemala
ten anemic stars
shine in my wooden sky,
against my wooden wall
against lace
and Yaweh faces,
three times in the curtains
she became a christian
for the sanctity or
comfort
'cause she knows that after
death is something
big, there's something
waiting
she smiled on roofs of
sheetmetal siding in
Guatemala
photographs of sun and palms
walking dirt roads
arms wrapped around one another
in that reassuring heat
of Southern geography
Latino nights
and days of hammers
nodding t'wards the earth
in sync with its rhythm
poem by Matthew Schoerner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!