He that blows the coals in quarrels that he has nothing to do with, has no right to complain if the sparks fly in his face.
quote by Benjamin Franklin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quarrels are essence.
Internal quarrels produce poetry.
Societal quarrels bring out story.
External quarrels adduce theory.
Sexual quarrels reproduce arts.
05.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Better Version Of Me
The nickel dropped when I was on
My way beyond the rubicon
What did I do?
And the games that I could handle
And then the ones with a candle
What can I do?
I'm a frightened, fickle person
Fighting, cryin', kickin', cursin'
What should I do?
Oooh, after all the folderol*
and hauling over coals** stops
What will I do?
Can't take a good day without a bad one
Don't feel just to smile until I had one
Where did I learn?
I make a fuss about a little thing
The rhyme is losing to the riddling
Where's the turn?
I dont want a home I go
and that home
is where my habits have a habitat
Why give it term?
Oooh, after all the folderol
and hauling over coals stops
What did I learn?
I am likely to miss the main event
If I stop to cry and complain again
So I will keep a deliberate pace
Let the damn breeze dry my face
Oh mister wait until you see
What I plan to be
I've got a plan to demand and it just began
And if you're right, you'll agree
Here's coming a better version of me
Here's coming a better version of me
Here it comes a better version of me
song performed by by Fiona Apple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Wind From... Elsewhere
The wind blows here... the wind blows there
The wind seems to blow from... everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair...
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! Can you see its graceful fingers... playing in your hair?
Nay! You cannot see the wind... e'en though you know it's there.
It's flitting... it's flirting... it's prancing everywhere
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! It blows unexpectedly... with a gentle breeze... it blows...
The Great Hand of Miracles... brings it... then it goes
To greet the early morning sun... to dance to and fro
From the highest, loftiest mountain heights... to valleys... far below. 'Who is He that sitteth upon the circle of the earth...
Who gathereth the winds in his fists—Who maketh a wind to pass over...
Thou hearest the sound thereof...
But canst not tell whence it cometh... and wither it goeth.' The wind blows here... the wind blows there...
The wind seems to blow... from everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair—
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE!
poem by Elga Haymon White
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He who blows on the fire will get sparks in his eyes.
He who blows in the fire will get sparks in his eyes.
Allemande
Allemande, where have you gone?
Did I know anything about you?
Many moons have come and gone
They wane so easily without you
All along I said we'd be sorry
Sorry, and so we are
But ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows
And ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows
And ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows you home?
Sorry, sorry, and so we are
Allemande, your face so long
And all my silly hopes hung on you
All along I said we'd be sorry
Sorry, and so we are
And ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows
And ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows
And ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows you home?
Sorry, sorry, and so we are
Oh, the way that the wind blows you home
Sorry, sorry, and so we are
song performed by by Keane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire.
quote by Solomon Ibn Gabirol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Wind Blows
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
In a part of this once-great city
Stands a child crying out in pity.
Gone is hope in the heart of each hungry hour.
Every year in this land of plenty
There are millions of starving children
What will i say if they look my way?
This is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Bow your heads to the lost generation
Scars so deep, bringing god's damnation.
Businessmen sip wine while congress argue.
But for grace we enjoy our pleasures
What we face will be our salvation
Go build your towns, but remember time will not forget
That this is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Think of what the wise men said.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life In Her Creaking Shoes
Life in her creaking shoes
Goes, and more formal grows,
A round of calls and cues:
Love blows as the wind blows.
Blows! . . . in the quiet close
As in the roaring mart,
By ways no mortal knows
Love blows into the heart.
The stars some cadence use,
Forthright the river flows,
In order fall the dews,
Love blows as the wind blows:
Blows! . . . and what reckoning shows
The courses of his chart?
A spirit that comes and goes,
Love blows into the heart.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Inspired by Issa - morning charcoal fire
morning charcoal fire
excitements of the new day
in the fiery sparks
morning charcoal fire
embers' sparks spread
excitements for the new day
morning charcoal fire
sparks greet and give
way to the new day
morning charcoal fire
first the sparks
then the warm new day
inspired by
morning's charcoal fire-
the mountain's pine breeze
wafting by
-Issa,1813
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Reign Of Blows
Reign of blows
Reign of blows
Reign of blows cascading down upon your shoulders
Far too many men dressed up as soldiers
The lamb is brought to the ground
Under the weight of the crown
A crown of thorns and dark deeds
The swastika and the hammer and symbol
Are sickles that reap only weeds
Reign of blows
Reign of blows
Reign of blows precedes a storm of revolution
People have no place in their solution
So torture raises its head
Decked out in blue, white, and red
And iron maidens will slam
And by the half light of burning republics
Joe stalin looks just like uncle sam
Reign of blows
Reign of blows
Reign of blows has washed away the corpse of abel,
Cain is now the king in every babel
I just dont care who you are
When death draws up in his car
And talks in terrorist tones
Remember violence is only a vote for the
Black queen to take back the throne
Reign of blows
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reign Of Blows
Reign of blows
Reign of blows
Reign of blows cascading down upon your shoulders
Far too many men dressed up as soldiers
The lamb is brought to the ground
Under the weight of the crown
A crown of thorns and dark deeds
The swastika and the hammer and symbol
Are sickles that reap only weeds
Reign of blows
Reign of blows
Reign of blows precedes a storm of revolution
People have no place in their solution
So torture raises its head
Decked out in blue, white, and red
And iron maidens will slam
And by the half light of burning republics
Joe stalin looks just like uncle sam
Reign of blows
Reign of blows
Reign of blows has washed away the corpse of abel,
Cain is now the king in every babel
I just dont care who you are
When death draws up in his car
And talks in terrorist tones
Remember violence is only a vote for the
Black queen to take back the throne
Reign of blows
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Living Happily Ever After
We used to strike sparks
off each other.
Our eyes would meet
or our hands,
& the blue lightning of love
would sear the air.
Now we are soft.
We loll
in the same sleepy bed,
skin of my skin,
hair of my head,
sweat of my sweat-
you are kin,
brother & mother
all in one,
husband, lover, muse & comforter;
I love you even better
without sparks.
We are pebbles in the tide
rolling against each other.
The surf crashes above us;
the irregular pulse
of the ocean drives our blood,
but we are growing smooth
against each other.
Are we living happily ever after?
What will happen
to my love of cataclysms?
My love of sparks & fire,
my love of ice?
Fellow pebble,
let us roll
against each other.
Perhaps the sparks are clearer
under water.
poem by Erica Jong
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There's A Light In The Dark
There's a light in the dark,
When everything else has gone out;
The burning embers of an unfinished thought,
Smoldering deep within a dream.
Images being scalded into memory,
As sparks of emotion break the silence of the night,
These fictional happenings engulfing the mind;
A smoke of questions unanswered.
A fire singeing the corners of consciousness,
Leaving coals for the morning light,
Fueling the flames for further thought;
There's a light in the dark.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Hymn 83
Afflictions and death under Providence.
Job 5:6-8.
Not from the dust affliction grows,
Nor troubles rise by chance;
Yet we are born to cares and woes;
A sad inheritance!
As sparks break out from burning coals,
And still are upwards borne
So grief is rooted in our souls,
And man grows up to mourn.
Yet with my God I leave my cause,
And trust his promised grace;
He rules me by his well-known laws
Of love and righteousness.
Not all the pains that e'er I bore
Shall spoil my future peace,
For death and hell can do no more
Than what my Father please.
poem by Isaac Watts
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My Trip To Auschwitz
I did not complain when my toes succumbed to numbness.
I did not complain when the bitter wind threw itself against me.
I did not complain when the thick mud ruined the flares of my jeans.
In comparison to the tragedy that has befallen here.
I have nothing of value to lose.
What is value?
What can I consider a true loss?
Nothing.
In comparison to the holocaust.
poem by Rachel Henley
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If You Hurt Me
if you hurt me
i will not complain
that is too
common neither will
i retaliate
that is too human
neither will i make
a scheme for
your eventual destruction
that is too
rude, or crude art
of survival
something divine
sparks within our
hearts
no vengeance
plain understanding
why one
wants to hurt and why
one must not
exact vengeance
or demand
justice anymore
God knows best.
This is cliche. And i
am taking it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Must I Complain, O God, I Pray?
When you made me by love thine,
And called me sweetly by my name,
And wrote it in your palm divine,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
When you chose me for job fine,
And gave me breath in special way,
And made me walk on earth, ravine,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
When you led me through hill, vale,
And desert, plain, seasons umptine,
And kept me safe through flood and hale,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
When you watched o'er me night, day,
And fed, clothed, sheltered me all life,
And held me by right hand en way,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
When you suffered, died on cross,
And resurrected on third day,
And wait for me with Father Boss,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
When you are Almighty God,
And love to see my soul back pure,
And fair in judgment, just in rod,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
Fondly dedicated to my dear elder sister,
Miss. Noeline Mary Clemencia BSc., B.T.,
On her birthday today
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-02-'12
poem by John Celes
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Today I Stared Love At Her Face
Today I stared love at her face
Its hard to say in what condition I found her in
Two lovers at their worst embrace
Ignorantly blissful
Hidden away was the word beautiful
Today I stared love at her face
upon loves face I saw a tear
her vibrant smile refuses to appear
in the concrete jungle meandering
from lover quarrels is her suffering
today I stared love at her face
and love sometime is to walk away
I closed my eyes to feel a minute pass
Reminded me of the words that nothing last
poem by Raymond Valadez
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Coals glowing orange red
Coals glowing orange red in the half drum
blazing through the holes in the sides of it
and a guard warms his hands
where he stands watching, with eyes alert
one hand touching the baton
as if testing if it is still there
and his shadow is gigantic
on the white building behind him
and above him, in the night
God’s coals are aflame
burning through the holes in the sky.
poem by Gert Strydom
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