Related quotes
Desist From It
Insults do not help in friendship,
Insults do not help in love,
And, insults do not win power! !
So desist from hurling insults at each other;
Because it betrays the trust of the people!
Source,
In the area;
Fingers,
In his or her room;
Complaints,
And to bring them closer to the assembly! !
But hurling insults at each other betrays the trust of the people.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Insult Upon Injury
Insult!
How do you feel when a woman insults you oh man?
Insult!
How do you feel when a man insults you oh woman?
Insult!
How do you feel when your wife insults you?
Insult!
How do you feel when your husband insults you?
Insult!
How do you feel when a child insults you?
Insult upon injury! !
But the jury is here at last to stay on this case.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Spoon... (In Our Hands)
the spoon in our hands
digs the graves of starving children.
our choice to turn away,
buries those afflicted by war.
when we take first,
without a thought to giving...
we bury the body of god,
among the poor and the homeless.
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
20th December
When your boyfriend insults you what will you do?
When your girlfriend insults you what will you do?
When your husband insults you what will you do?
When your wife insults you what will you do?
Of the way of life that goes on like this at times;
But who the cup fits must surely wear it.
I am a teacher on this love,
But at times i am being insulted by my students;
And that makes me learn better daily,
Because the road of life is crooked at times.
20th December,
Of the insult that i received from you as my lover;
Then i stopped to think for a while,
Why should i hear these words from you?
Oh life,
How hard it is for some people to change;
And, you cannot satisfy everybody on this earth.
Yes, whatever you do people will talk about you;
Whether in a positive way or a negative way.
20th December!
Of a call so close to me than your muse;
But my heart will lead me on always with my patience.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Whatever insults my State insults me.
quote by Preston Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Smiling And Driving
someone called me something despicable
and then someone showed me his finger
and then someone glared at me
and then someone yelled something unpleasant
and then someone exploded into a ball of rage
and then someone kept honking profanities
and all i did was smile at them.
i had a silly smile on my face.
and everything they said
and everything they did
lost venom
and lost their barbs and lost their sting
and lost their heat and lost their daggers
and lost their way and lost their relevance.
because when i smiled,
i disallowed them the pleasure to hurt me.
insults become insults
only if i open the door and let them in.
as long as i keep the door closed,
and keep my smile going,
insults are nothing but useless sound energy.
keep smiling. enjoy driving.
poem by Prathap Suthan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Keep Them Coming
Keep them coming.
Insults you believe leaves me taunted.
Keep them coming.
It is you,
Not me who collects.
A lifetime of hauntings.
Unable to sleep,
From those misdeeds planted.
Keep them coming.
Insults you believe leaves me taunted.
I am not visited by mysterious shadows.
Appearing.
To stir within me unspeakable fear.
With attempts to keep blocked,
On the other side of locked doors.
No peace is yours.
It is you,
Not me who collects.
A lifetime of hauntings.
Keep them coming.
Insults you believe leaves me taunted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bhakti Path (Memory Of God)
if you think the wind
comes from nowhere
with no reason...
you are a fool!
your scriptures
are the ashes
of a fire long dead!
the bodies of those
you have killed
by your choices...
a sacrifice to your god!
you cannot deny
the blood on your hands,
the soot on your faces...
cannot muffle the cry
of babies unwanted!
holiness, pus,
semen, and sweat...
the hands on the shovel
that digs the shallow graves!
the wind prophesies,
with the memory of God!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Relic
When my grave is broke up again
Some second guest to entertain,
—For graves have learn'd that woman-head,
To be to more than one a bed—
And he that digs it, spies
A bracelet of bright hair about the bone,
Will he not let us alone,
And think that there a loving couple lies,
Who thought that this device might be some way
To make their souls at the last busy day
Meet at this grave, and make a little stay?
If this fall in a time, or land,
Where mass-devotion doth command,
Then he that digs us up will bring
Us to the bishop or the king,
To make us relics; then
Thou shalt be a Mary Magdalen, and I
A something else thereby;
All women shall adore us, and some men.
And, since at such time miracles are sought,
I would have that age by this paper taught
What miracles we harmless lovers wrought.
First we loved well and faithfully,
Yet knew not what we loved, nor why;
Difference of sex we never knew,
No more than guardian angels do;
Coming and going we
Perchance might kiss, but not between those meals;
Our hands ne'er touch'd the seals,
Which nature, injured by late law, sets free.
These miracles we did; but now alas!
All measure, and all language, I should pass,
Should I tell what a miracle she was.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Settle Down
Brimming with useless information,
Spilling thoughts void of true opinion,
Yes you'll fight it to the death,
Yeah you'll fight it to the death.
Fighting someone elses favour,
Regurgetate the words you heard on radio 2,
Arghhh didn't you?
[chorus]
Stop throwing insults and crockery around,
We can all be destructive so settle down, settle down
Well every dialoge needs a certain suitor,
One whos open minded,
To calmly digest the very question of,
And understand,
to look at things from many angles,
constuct and critic without anger,
Even comprimise,
You never comprimise
chorus x2
Stop throwing insults and crockery around,
Stop throwing insults and crockery around,
We can all be destructive so settle down, settle down
Stop throwing insults and crockery around,
We can all be destructive so settle down, settle down, settle down, settle down
song performed by by Ordinary Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Candid Talk.....
she took a
handkerchief and
tied it round her neck
her niece said the prayers
saying it was caused by
mere feelings
feelings end
everything sometimes
and it is no wonder
it is acceptable nowadays
the sad fact is no one
wants to mention it
and so
it simply forgets itself
like water boiling and
evaporating and
what is left is
the cold tin of
a can
in our chat
you blame me for taking about
endings
that i should have
mentioned more about
sunlit beginnings
grazing fields and
limitless horizons of green
and blue
and flaming sunsets
that make our
mouths gape
for
beauty
i tell you i am
not a story teller
i am a poet
and endings
are not open
most of the times
sometimes they are
insults that one must bear
even in one's
self dug graves
there is always a responsibility
that must be gripped by our hands
and if these hands open
and surrender respect
to some
insignificant handkerchiefs
so be it
sadness is not a reason
and it is not always
beautiful
so be it
let those who cannot bear
bury themselves
we have our own preoccupations
our graves to dig too
our our litany of justifications
after
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When his pet Earth gets angry?
T..........errible
S...........uffering
U.. .........nanimously
N............ature
A... ..........grees
M.............utual
I...... .........nterest!
When this experimental Man
Digs & digs
Day & night
To get golden water,
The bachelor Sorcerer too
Helpless of the powers that shows
This mysterious ball at random!
*Poor innocents compensate with their precious lives and what is this unfair Dogma?
[Quoted from a Survivor but a Senile's Diary.]
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Was Not Born To Follow!
i am the match
...for the fire not lit,
......the cup that holds,
..no water!
...the wheel that turns
....while standing still,
the prayer lost in the mail.
..the leaf that clings
.....to the barelimbed tree,
the fallen tree where small things live.
....the one who digs
.......the unmarked graves,
who cleans the stalls by moonlight.
....the last cross
......on that faraway hill,
the one who pulls
.....the blanket o'er the body....
i am the song,
.....and the gentle hand,
i was not born to follow!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Too Time Consuming
Drop your expectations,
That I have come here to protect against insults
And other offensive verbal assaults.
Comments that offend,
Are not isolated to those addicted to them.
And anyone blessed...
With determination,
Does not rest.
And knows how obnoxious some folks can get.
But that does not impede...
One obsessed with the success of progress.
Insults seem to feed their ambitions!
And to get folks like this angered until they 'hiss'...
Is a regretful stinging given,
No one quickly forgets to easily dismiss.
So...
Drop your expectations
That I have come here to protect against insults
And other offensive verbal assaults.
I am hoping to maintain my focus.
And not be made to address issues and other notions.
They are too time consuming to brood with an attitude.
And attitude with mood...
I can give!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Children In America!
one out of three
children in America,
living in poverty?
what happened
to the land of promise?
children hungry,
children homeless,
children that wont
get a good education!
children, broken families,
children without future.
children without love....
turn to hate!
build your cities,
build your banks,
build your kingdoms
drunk on oil and blood!
your children, dying....
who digs their graves?
who closes their eyes?
who prays for their souls?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Visit Malaysia Year: Fort A Famosa old graves (State of Malacca)
fort a famosa little jittery
just across the fence
a child's marble grave
the only things that warm
the old, broken graves
sunlight and their love messages
Around the A Famosa are many old graves some several hundred years old. They are of marble and broken in many parts. However, what keep them warm when visiting these graves are the sunlight and the love messages on these graves from love ones.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I can't believe that we would lie in our graves wondering if we had spent our living days well. I can't believe that we would lie in our graves dreaming of things that we might have been.
quote by Dave Matthews
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Elegy in a Country Churchyard
The men that worked for England
They have their graves at home:
And bees and birds of England
About the cross can roam.
But they that fought for England,
Following a falling star,
Alas, alas for England
They have their graves afar.
And they that rule in England,
In stately conclave met,
Alas, alas for England,
They have no graves as yet.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Elegy in a Country Churchyard
The men that worked for England
They have their graves at home:
And bees and birds of England
About the cross can roam.
But they that fought for England,
Following a falling star,
Alas, alas for England
They have their graves afar.
And they that rule in England,
In stately conclave met,
Alas, alas for England,
They have no graves as yet.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
The Gardener
The gardener does not love to talk,
He makes me keep the gravel walk;
And when he puts his tools away,
He locks the door and takes the key.
Away behind the currant row
Where no one else but cook may go,
Far in the plots, I see him dig
Old and serious, brown and big.
He digs the flowers, green, red and blue,
Nor wishes to be spoken to.
He digs the flowers and cuts the hay,
And never seems to want to play.
Silly gardener! summer goes,
And winter comes with pinching toes,
When in the garden bare and brown
You must lay your barrow down.
Well now, and while the summer stays
To profit by these garden days
O how much wiser you would be
To play at Indian wars with me!
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!