Courtesie is cumbersome to them that ken it not.
Related quotes
A cumbersome Cur in company is hated for his miscarriage.
Triumphant Day
Yesterday was a day of triumph and laughter,
Noises were cumbersome, much like the activator.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Just like the stag's horns, wisdom is a cumbersome ornament.
aphorism by Valeriu Butulescu from Immensity of the Point, translated by Eva A. Ziem
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now they call in all of the authority figures they can find and hire them - the cost has gone up. The picture may or may not get better, but definitely, it gets more cumbersome.
It is no longer possible for lyric poetry to express the immensity of our experience. Life has grown too cumbersome, too complicated. We have acquired values which are best expressed in prose.
quote by Boris Pasternak
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lass That Made the Bed to Me
When Januar' wind was blawing cauld,
As to the north I took my way,
The mirksome night did me enfauld,
I knew na whare to lodge till day:
By my gude luck a maid I met,
Just in the middle o' my care,
And Kindly she did me invite
To walk into a chamber fair.
I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
And thank'd her for her courtesie;
I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
An bade her make a bed to me;
She made the bed baith large and wide,
Wi' twa white hands she spread it doun;
She put the cup to her rosy lips,
And drank - "Young man, now sleep ye soun'."
Chorus - The bonie lass made the bed to me,
The braw lass made the bed to me,
I'll ne'er forget till the day I die,
The lass that made the bed to me.
She snatch'd the candle in her hand,
And frae my chamber went wi' speed;
But I call'd her quickly back again,
To lay some mair below my head:
A cod she laid below my head,
And served me with due respect,
And, to salute her wi' a kis,
I put my arms about her neck.
Chorus: -...
"Haud aff your hands, young man! she said,
"And dinna sae uncivil be;
Gif ye hae ony luve for me,
O wrang ma my virginitie."
Her hair was like the links o' gowd,
Her teeth were like the ivorie,
Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine,
The lass that made the bed to me.
Chorus: -...
Her bosom was the driven snaw,
Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see;
Her limbs the polish'd marble stane,
The lass that made the bed to me.
I kiss'd her o'er and o'er again,
And aye she wist na what to say:
I laid her 'tween me and the wa';
The lassie thocht na lang till day.
Chorus: -...
Upon the morrow when we raise,
I thank'd her for her courtesie;
But aye she blush'd and aye she sigh'd,
And said, "Alas, ye've ruin'd me."
I clasp'd her waist, and kiss'd her syne,
While the tear stood twinklin' in her e'e;
I said, "My lassie, dinna cry,
For ye aye shall make the bed to me."
Chorus: - ...
She took her mither's holland sheets,
An' made them a' in sarks to me;
Blythe and merry may she be,
The lass that made the bed to me.
Chorus: -...
poem by Robert Burns
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Lass That Made the Bed to Me, The
When Januar' wind was blawing cauld,
As to the north I took my way,
The mirksome night did me enfauld,
I knew na whare to lodge till day:
By my gude luck a maid I met,
Just in the middle o' my care,
And Kindly she did me invite
To walk into a chamber fair.
I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
And thank'd her for her courtesie;
I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
An bade her make a bed to me;
She made the bed baith large and wide,
Wi' twa white hands she spread it doun;
She put the cup to her rosy lips,
And drank - "Young man, now sleep ye soun'."
Chorus - The bonie lass made the bed to me,
The braw lass made the bed to me,
I'll ne'er forget till the day I die,
The lass that made the bed to me.
She snatch'd the candle in her hand,
And frae my chamber went wi' speed;
But I call'd her quickly back again,
To lay some mair below my head:
A cod she laid below my head,
And served me with due respect,
And, to salute her wi' a kis,
I put my arms about her neck.
Chorus: -...
"Haud aff your hands, young man! she said,
"And dinna sae uncivil be;
Gif ye hae ony luve for me,
O wrang ma my virginitie."
Her hair was like the links o' gowd,
Her teeth were like the ivorie,
Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine,
The lass that made the bed to me.
Chorus: -...
Her bosom was the driven snaw,
Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see;
Her limbs the polish'd marble stane,
The lass that made the bed to me.
I kiss'd her o'er and o'er again,
And aye she wist na what to say:
I laid her 'tween me and the wa';
The lassie thocht na lang till day.
Chorus: -...
Upon the morrow when we raise,
I thank'd her for her courtesie;
But aye she blush'd and aye she sigh'd,
And said, "Alas, ye've ruin'd me."
I clasp'd her waist, and kiss'd her syne,
While the tear stood twinklin' in her e'e;
I said, "My lassie, dinna cry,
For ye aye shall make the bed to me."
Chorus: - ...
She took her mither's holland sheets,
An' made them a' in sarks to me;
Blythe and merry may she be,
The lass that made the bed to me.
Chorus: -...
poem by Robert Burns
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Steam-train to the stars
there would be no count-down
or blast-off
no excessive speed
just a gradual accelaration
no need for cumbersome attire
a blazer or a sweater would suffice
they're off
roof-top height
then the clouds
or is it steam
or smoke
or fire
no it's the setting sun
and then the parachutes
we counted three
the engine-driver
the fireman
and the guard
someone observed
jokingly
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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This does not mean that every copyright must prove its value initially. That would be a far too cumbersome system of control. But it does mean that every system or category of copyright or patent should prove its worth.
quote by Lawrence Lessig
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Half-blessed! But Why?
Everything I do seems half-blessed;
Everything I do turns life insecure;
Everything I do remains half-finished;
Everything I do is unsuccessful;
Everything I do is wrongly done;
Everything I do is risky;
Everything I do is clumsy.
Everything I do is unsatisfactory.
Everything I do lacks progress;
Everything I do seems dangerous;
Everything I do lessens mind’s peace;
Everything I do is cumbersome.
And when I ponder why,
Perhaps the God of High
Isn’t satisfied with my
Soul’s state of grace and lie!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-16-2005
poem by John Celes
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Rituals That Appal
Cumbersome rituals appal the mind,
The wits are affected by this ritual.
The mind is troublesome to the eloquent speech,
One speaks loudest when affected.
The whole piety of a speaker is about,
Wanting the air of a seminary.
A doddering dwarf has reminded us
Of his walk in the holy region.
The rituals of his stupid speech
Are around the house of words.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Post Script
This starless night breaks open -once again-
Through a cumbersome chilled breeze...
My windowsill 'tis laced with ice chips
And glazed-frozen branches are left upon the trees;
Our embers once aglow...so warm...
In yesterdays fire-are now- long gone-
'Twas like the Summer in mid Winter-wasn't it?
Alas, 'twas deaf and blind to all of your wrong;
By, Theodora Onken
December 31,2011
poem by Theodora Onken
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Actions And Acts
Actions are seldom seen to worry you,
Those that twitch and harass are cumbersome,
Actually they stem from the roots of animals,
Underneath them reigns the authority of a king.
Their acts are like those of kings, working
And cycling through centuries, how many?
The actions committed resound in the open space
Of lucky universes, fully acted upon by the majority.
Kings may act and have their lengthy discussion,
But let the actions build fortune that will create victory.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Faraway and So Near
Don't know how you're receiving this;
I not writing it down.
You see, I'm dead.
Killed slung as a tree stamped me out,40 miles per hour;
Solids are aglow,
And my haze is a timeless rhyme.
Usually I walk through walls, and even appear to a few sensitive folks;
Some days are foggier than the rest,
And I cannot concentrate:
For some reason I'm still in full ski gear (cumbersome) ,
But no longer is the snow cold, at all.
I stumble into an unfamiliar room; it is you I feel;
You don't have the means to turn and look at me:
It's the back of your neck I see...
And lightly begin to touch it.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Agony of the old
Had I died as a lad, my parents would have wept.
Had I died as a man, my children and wife would have wept.
Had I died ere my wife, my wife would have wept.
A widower, an invalid, a cumbersome,
When I die who will have wept?
28.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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So Much Death and So Little Love
Fragile and crumbling
Like an autumn leaf,
I desperately tried
To question her heart
Like appealing to a deity,
Whether there was still
Any remembrance of love
That could keep us clinging
To a relationship adrift
In a galaxy of misery
Or bogged down
In a field of defeat.
With the courage
Of a dying woman
With nothing left to protect,
She told me
The only feelings that remain
Are feelings of regret;
And she cut me loose
Like dead cumbersome weight
That threatened or survival.
I never had
More anguish in my eyes
While gazing at the anguish
In the eyes of another.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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To Leave That Way...And Be Left
Moving forward.
To move backwards produces a useless effect.
For anyone making paces made to advance steps.
To become free and escape from that which has no depth.
That which expresses no interest to accept...
Progression.
Is to live awakened without expectations to get!
One has to decide,
What is valued and precious to endear.
And what is too cumbersome to carry.
And should be left behind without fear.
To be forgotten in one's past to disappear.
If one has chosen Sun to spark enlightenment.
With an attraction to darkness dead!
To leave that way...
And and be left to stay ineffective.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bear
Bear..
stone clad shores
welt beneath your warmth
fir lined trees
stand silent in your presence
misted waters raise to greet a vibrant sky in jubilation
as salmon fight ferocious rapids
you
intent
listen and watch
baited breath
silent
your cumbersome claw hovers as a wieghtless mosquito
dancing hithertoo
for that oh so perfect
catch
titanium
spray
avoi ds your touch
end the salmon's day
poem by Karen Sinclair
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The Intruders Were Killed
The worries of the day fatigued me,
And I lay still to rest for a while,
The gust of drowsiness wreathed
My cumbersome existence, then the vision
Around me became unambiguous.
I saw several uniformed men of defense,
Weaponed with the latest smart weapons,
Ran they around in helter-skelter,
In search of some reported intruders.
At last they went behind the bushes,
Instantly I heard a volley after a volley
Of bullets being fired at the trespassers;
Then the battle ended and silence prevailed.
I timidly went at the spot of occurrence,
Ah! I beheld a heap of cuckoos and doves,
Some motionless, some breathing heavily
On the verge life and threshold of death.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Intimate Relationship
Intimate Relationship
Saw the rusty old tramp-ship on the glittering
blues sea mowing cumbersome eastward.
My god, I knew her, more than many, had spent
two years in her hot interior and long nights
listening to her reassuring heart beats.
When sea was rough she rode the waves like
a swan, shuddered sometimes as to get sea off
her deck. Here she was again, under alien flag,
disappearing slowly as a dream remembered.
Wondered if she was on her way to Caribbean?
She liked it there, warm water good for her hull.
And like me she knew every little port, she could
birth blindfolded. Glad to see her again, yet sad
feel as I betrayed her for leaving; pitiable she, not
anchored in the inlet of peace by now.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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