It's the tortoise's shell, ugly and hard that protects its life long journey on earth.
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A tortoise
the tortoise is just inadequate
she has been treating
the same way everyone
of another kind
a supercilious front
to shroud weaknesses
broadcasting insouciance
with a hard hard shell
she knows she has a birthright
a hard headed advantage
with its shell signed
with letters from heaven
nobody is allowed even to knock on
it, protected species
here she is behaving in ways
that turn people away
without even knowing why
ten thousand years from now
she would be still in her same state
and behaving the same way
one big curvy hard hard shell
as the world shuttles to a new sphere
poor tortoise! poor tortoise!
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A broken string of a Cello
The poet TYP (Pseudonym) in the poetfreak who introduced me the greatest cellist Jaquueline Mary du Pre. Merits for him!
Jaqueline Mary du Pre was a British Cellist
One of the great players,
Her career was cut short
By multiple *Scierosis, which forced her to cease
Performing at the age 28, and led to her premature death
At the age of 42.
Death always a dilemma for me?
Just imagine a hard shell tortoise lives for a long
And this poor human beings bring to the guillotine
Within a short period?
Who thinks human being's a guinea pig for their experiments?
Anyway it's not fair indeed and the guise of the Life is ridiculous!
* Abnormal hardening of the body tissue?
Human should get only the soul and live a long like the tortoise!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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358
you once said
you are unhappy
you live on this hard shell
of a tortoise
and your burden
is such that you cannot
really move freely
as a bird with its wings
you wish the burden
melts into your skin
and it is done
then you say
the skin binds you
and the flesh and bone
are burdens too
you want something
lighter like the feathers
of a free bird
something light and easy
and verily free
and it is done
i am happy to see
you flying in the skies
doing some acrobatics
in space
chirping some melodies
under the trees
diving in the sea
teasing the rivers
and this hovering
on the cows
and today i hear
a different song
a sad song from a bird
by my window
it is you
you want to return
to the hard shell of
the tortoise
you miss the silence
and the privacy
of your hiding
now, you have doubts
what burdens are
what freedom is
and this cannot just
be easily done
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What You Are Saying
you once said
you are unhappy
you live on this hard shell
of a tortoise
and your burden
is such that you cannot
really move freely
as a bird with its wings
you wish the burden
melts into your skin
and it is done
then you say
the skin binds you
and the flesh and bone
are burdens too
you want something
lighter like the feathers
of a free bird
something light and easy
and verily free
and it is done
i am happy to see
you flying in the skies
doing some acrobatics
in space
chirping some melodies
under the trees
diving in the sea
teasing the rivers
and this hovering
on the cows
and today i hear
a different song
a sad song from a bird
by my window
it is you
you want to return
to the hard shell of
the tortoise
you miss the silence
and the privacy
of your hiding
now, you have doubts
what burdens are
what freedom is
and this cannot just
be easily done
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tortoise Shell
The Cross, the Cross
Goes deeper in than we know,
Deeper into life;
Right into the marrow
And through the bone.
Along the back of the baby tortoise
The scales are locked in an arch like a bridge,
Scale-lapping, like a lobster's sections
Or a bee's.
Then crossways down his sides
Tiger-stripes and wasp-bands.
Five, and five again, and five again,
And round the edges twenty-five little ones,
The sections of the baby tortoise shell.
Four, and a keystone;
Four, and a keystone;
Four, and a keystone;
Then twenty-four, and a tiny little keystone.
It needed Pythagoras to see life playing with counters on the living back
Of the baby tortoise;
Life establishing the first eternal mathematical tablet,
Not in stone, like the Judean Lord, or bronze, but in life-clouded, life-rosy tortoise shell.
The first little mathematical gentleman
Stepping, wee mite, in his loose trousers
Under all the eternal dome of mathematical law.
Fives, and tens,
Threes and fours and twelves,
All the volte face of decimals,
The whirligig of dozens and the pinnacle of seven.
Turn him on his back,
The kicking little beetle,
And there again, on his shell-tender, earth-touching belly,
The long cleavage of division, upright of the eternal cross
And on either side count five,
On each side, two above, on each side, two below
The dark bar horizontal.
The Cross!
It goes right through him, the sprottling insect,
Through his cross-wise cloven psyche,
Through his five-fold complex-nature.
So turn him over on his toes again;
Four pin-point toes, and a problematical thumb-piece,
Four rowing limbs, and one wedge-balancing head,
Four and one makes five, which is the clue to all mathematics.
The Lord wrote it all down on the little slate
Of the baby tortoise.
Outward and visible indication of the plan within,
The complex, manifold involvednes,s of an individual creature
Plotted out
On this small bird, this rudiment,
This little dome, this pediment
Of all creation,
This slow one.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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A Tortoise's World!
Story of a tortoise who hid in his shell
Under the rock in the well
That is where it would dwell
Until one day a frog chased by a snake, did fell
Both, tortoise and frog were friends since they met
They had so much to talk, a lot of fun, you bet
Frog wanted to go home, leave a new friend, not to forget
Frog left, promised, soon it shall return and bring friends to get
Days passed and tortoise was sad and lonely
It rained and rained, and then came the day lovely
Frog came and came Frogs, croaking and singing jolly
Also were there tortoises, fishes and snails, Joy filled the world wholly!
poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
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An Interesting Ancestry
To some of us, a tortoise lives on land
while turtles only rarely leave the sea.
‘Chelonians' applies to any brand,
so here I'll use this terminology.
Land dwellers share aquatic ancestry
and most of us decided to stay put.
Chelonians agreed to disagree.
A flippered revolution was afoot.
A late Triassic turtle fossil shows
a hard-shelled belly plate and softer back,
presumably to ward off fatal blows
from deeper-dwelling predators' attack.
Did top shell metaphorically ‘dissolve'
when full-shelled forebear sought the sea's embrace?
Or did an unshelled forebear's shell evolve
in oceanic pilgrimage retrace?
Genetic sleuthing points to latter case.
The evidence suggests that once again,
the tortoise forebears left their liquid space
and plodded (swam?) to shore with sigh, 'amen'. *
From sea to shore to sea to shore once more.
You'd surely think a record lies therein.
Yet maybe making not three trips but four
is water loving cousin terrapin.
When next you gaze with love in tortoise eyes
and wonder at his mind's soliloquy,
from languid, longing looks you may surmise,
he's pondering ‘To sea or not to sea'.
poem by Diane Hine
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Endless Journey
The journey we make in life is long and hard. This
journey which has its crossroads. . . when we get to them.
we have to decide on which road to take, what path to
make and what's down that road. This journey that we must make has many obstacles,
many detours, many signs. We see the signs, but never
heed its warnings, we see the detours in life, but seem
to stray the other way. Life is rough and so is this journey that we're making.
This journey we make has its trail of tears and its path
of happiness, the two never meeting. When finally, we choose our path, we must follow it to
the end, to the end of its road, which is our destiny in
life. That's when life begins.
poem by Anthony Taimanglo Taitano
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The developers, if they decide to move a tortoise, have to pay the long-term costs for enhancing the areas that take care of the tortoise, and it gives us the opportunity to manage an area that is going to be protected.
quote by Gale Norton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life And Time
if life is a book, then time is pen--writing pages of life journey;
if life is a piece of white paper, then time is color--painting more colorful life journey;
if life is a long river, then time is surging waves--pushing forward of life journey;
if life is a tree, then time is pieces of green leaves--enriching life journey;
if life is a door, then time is just the key--opening new start of life journey;
if life is a cup of coffee, then time is a bag of condiments--flavoring into life journey;
if life is a scene of tv play, then time is nameless leading role in it--performing its own speical and unique life journey;
if life is a oil painting, then time is its palette--rendering life journey;
if life is a fast horse, then time is its running greenland--carrying load of life journey;
if life is a greenland, then time is spring rain--moisturing nutrition of life journey
...........
this is ur own life, a life which only belong to ur own, ur sepcial and unique one.......
poem by Flying Heart
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Long Journey,
long journey,
long the journey,
long the going's,
I think of my failings,
my uprising,
my foes,
my under-estimated values,
life's a long journey,
this journey is so long and rough,
life so crucial and tough,
whilst these people talking all the false,
these are the false veil,
that take the beauty of our right's,
still can see my going and coming,
rising and failing's,
that I can never doubt our love,
sincerely there is more love from on high,
that the grace of God is sufficiently blessing us.
poem by Maxpoet Beauty
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The Journey without shortcuts
The Journey traveled without shortcuts,
is a journey worth taking.
For there are no shortcuts,
to any place worth going.
The destination does not matter,
but the Journey to it does.
For at the destination,
you will not learn anything.
You will not accomplish much either.
On the Journey to it, however,
you learn many things,
and accomplish much.
On the Journey,
you learn. You learn that,
'We are not human beings on a spiritual journey,
but spiritual beings on a human journey.' (-my good friend Joe)
So travel hard,
and travel well.
Choose your companions wisely,
and leave everything behind.
Never look back,
always move forward.
For 'Yesterday is history,
and history is miles away.' (-Matthew West)
But never forget anything either,
learn all that you can,
and treasure the good times.
Then this Journey will be like no other.
This is the Journey,
of life.
Our life here on Earth,
so don't take shortcuts.
This Journey won't be easy,
but you have a guide.
The guide will never leave your side,
and he will carry you through the rough terrain.
He loves you more than you will ever know,
and he gave you this Journey,
so travel it while holding his hand.
You are not alone.
So again,
never look back,
but don't forget either,
and don't stop.
Don't take any shortcuts,
run the whole race.
You are not alone
on this Journey,
the Journey of life.
(13 Jan.2009)
poem by Melissa Wagner
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Baby Tortoise
You know what it is to be born alone,
Baby tortoise!
The first day to heave your feet little by little from the shell,
Not yet awake,
And remain lapsed on earth,
Not quite alive.
A tiny, fragile, half-animate bean.
To open your tiny beak-mouth, that looks as if it would never open,
Like some iron door;
To lift the upper hawk-beak from the lower base
And reach your skinny little neck
And take your first bite at some dim bit of herbage,
Alone, small insect,
Tiny bright-eye,
Slow one.
To take your first solitary bite
And move on your slow, solitary hunt.
Your bright, dark little eye,
Your eye of a dark disturbed night,
Under its slow lid, tiny baby tortoise,
So indomitable.
No one ever heard you complain.
You draw your head forward, slowly, from your little wimple
And set forward, slow-dragging, on your four-pinned toes, Rowing slowly forward.
Whither away, small bird?
Rather like a baby working its limbs,
Except that you make slow, ageless progress
And a baby makes none.
The touch of sun excites you,
And the long ages, and the lingering chill
Make you pause to yawn,
Opening your impervious mouth,
Suddenly beak-shaped, and very wide, like some suddenly gaping pincers;
Soft red tongue, and hard thin gums,
Then close the wedge of your little mountain front,
Your face, baby tortoise.
Do you wonder at the world, as slowly you turn your head in its wimple
And look with laconic, black eyes?
Or is sleep coming over you again,
The non-life?
You are so hard to wake.
Are you able to wonder?
Or is it just your indomitable will and pride of the first life
Looking round
And slowly pitching itself against the inertia
Which had seemed invincible?
The vast inanimate,
And the fine brilliance of your so tiny eye,
Challenger.
Nay, tiny shell-bird,
What a huge vast inanimate it is, that you must row against,
What an incalculable inertia.
Challenger,
Little Ulysses, fore-runner,
No bigger than my thumb-nail,
Buon viaggio.
All animate creation on your shoulder,
Set forth, little Titan, under your battle-shield.
The ponderous, preponderate,
Inanimate universe;
And you are slowly moving, pioneer, you alone.
How vivid your travelling seems now, in the troubled sunshine,
Stoic, Ulyssean atom;
Suddenly hasty, reckless, on high toes.
Voiceless little bird,
Resting your head half out of your wimple
In the slow dignity of your eternal pause.
Alone, with no sense of being alone,
And hence six times more solitary;
Fulfilled of the slow passion of pitching through immemorial ages
Your little round house in the midst of chaos.
Over the garden earth,
Small bird,
Over the edge of all things.
Traveller,
With your tail tucked a little on one side
Like a gentleman in a long-skirted coat.
All life carried on your shoulder,
Invincible fore-runner.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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“The Journey Called Life”
From where I have started to where will I end,
The journey has been long, winding and tiring.
From nothing to something… it has never been an easy adventure.
I have been tried with luck; tried with hard works;
I am tried with pains and heartaches too…
I have found love and lost it… I have found new one, I’ve tried to keep it.
I have found friends and only few remains,
I have found money, but it never really stays.
The lesson of journey is uncontainable.
I want to move on as life is moving on…
I wish to move on with it, I want to go on its flow.
To an unpredictable journey called life,
Walking alone in this path, with guts and determination.
By God’s grace and guidance.
I want to continue the journey once more…
A journey where people would remember me
As a lady who won a million smiles and conquer goodbyes.
I keep on taking my unavoidable journey in this deep blue sea with struggles and hopes.
Until one day, my journey will bring me to my destiny, that’s then that I will be home.
-aira
poem by Aira Olayvar
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For Everyone The Life Journey
For everyone the life journey is different though a journey that for all of us must end
Along the way we meet some who do not like us But we also do make many a good friend
And on the journey we learn many lessons we've been learning from life since before we did crawl
And every day we live in life for us a lesson and that applies to you and me and all
And on our life journey we make many mistakes and for every one of them some price to pay
But we must struggle onwards towards the finish and every dawning for us a new day
For many life's road more uphill than downhill it is a hard journey to undertake
We have the good days and we have the bad days and every dawn to a new challenge we wake
Tomorrow is another day they will tell you and tomorrow in it's own good time will come
But tomorrow will not be for everybody today's will be the last sunset for some
For every one of us life's journey is different so different for you as it is for me
And our thinking on most things are quite different we all look at life so very differently
For everyone the life journey has to end sometime but where or when we are not meant to know
For some it will end before they reach their prime years and for some when they are walking slow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Ugly
Crossed the path then I followed your face
It was hard to believe
It was hard to trace
I saw you today
Seems like I see you everyday
But theres something I figured out bout you
Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh yeah
So ugly
Im tellin you strait
So ugly
Dont make a mistake
Cause your ugly
You could bet it on the bank
Say why why
Why would I lie to you
Why would I lie
Why would I lie
Your so ugly
All the time
Ugly
You aint no friend of mine
Cause your ugly
You could bet it on the bank
Say why why
Why would I lie to you
Why would I lie
Why would I lie
When you smile or a frown
Im so tired of you bein around
Engaged in some sexual acts
Well Im just gonna have to tell you all the facts
What could that be about,
Well heres a clue
Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh yeah
So ugly
Im tellin you strait
So ugly
Dont make a mistake
Cause your ugly
Im tellin you that
I say why why
Why would I lie to you
Why would I lie
Why would I lie
Your so ugly
All the time
Ugly
You aint no friend of mine
Ugly
You could bet it on the bank
Say why why
Why would I lie to you
Why would I lie
Why would I lie
Your so ugly
La la la la
So ugly....
Gordon gano: guitar, lead vocal
Brian ritchie: acoustic bass guitar, electric bass,vocals
Victor delorenzo: snare drum and trancephone, vocals
Recorded at castle recording company, london
gorno music reprinted with permission
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Doing The Best For You
You can blame it on the government,
The unions,
They use you all you life,
You can take system and make believe
It will be alright,
Theyve taken the spirit of your life,
And given you a machine.
No wonder you feel so hard done by
Chorus
Theyre doing the best for you,
Well thats what they say,
I know what youre going through.
You travel alone,
The journey is long,
With only a name,
In search of a song.
You can blame it on the catholics,
The jews,
The blacks,
And the whites.
You can take any doctrine and surely waste
Another life.
Any way that you want it to be,
By popular demand
Any way but the way it should be.
Chorus
Theyre doing the best for you,
Well thats what they say,
I know what youre going through.
You travel alone,
The journey is long,
With only a name,
In search of a home.
The world is ruled by science and money,
Thats all that exists.
How much longer must we live and die
For this.
Chorus
Doing the best for you,
Doing the best for you,
Doing the best for you.
You travel alone,
The journey is long,
From where do you come,
To where do you go.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lifes A Journey
I say life’s a journey, because life’s something we have once and everything we do and say is something we can’t go back and change. So I look at life as a journey. That I have to live full out, with no regrets. I don’t have time to live in the past or think about all the bad things. Almost all human being takes life for granted, and I don’t want to be one of those people. So I promised my self to never ever live with regrets, so I try to do whatever my heart tells me. And I try to stand up for all my believes, and I can’t do that if I live in the past or with regrets. It’s a waist of time,
Because life’s a journey.
I usually say if you got a dream go for it, because giving up on a dream is like giving up on life and giving up on life is like sitting and asking god to die. I know it’s hard to go for your dream when people tell you, that you won’t make it. So I just tell my self, whenever I fall I get back up, because I won’t give up without a fight.
Because life’s a journey.
What you’ve got if you don’t have faith, I know it’s hard to hold on to, when we live in a world like this. But I always hold on to my faith and my hopes.
My believes is what often keeps me going,
Because life’s a journey.
Life is hard, we all know it isn’t fair but I say stop worrying about what you/we don’t have and appreciate what you/we have. Because whenever you/we have a bad day someone else has a worse day and in worse case someone might be dying,
Because life’s a journey.
This world need some love, I know it’s easier to hate than love but at least could we try to respect each other. We would get so much more out of this journey then, I really believe that. Maybe sometimes we should just start to think about our self’s than everybody else. Because if we keep hate on each other, we will soon see world war 3, and I don’t think any one wants that to happen. I wish we could all respect each other, black and white, blue and yellow, bigger and smaller. Because at the end of the day we all human being on a journey that can end any time. It’s sad but it’s true,
Because life’s a journey.
Life’s a journey till the day it ends and when it ends there is no looking back or taking back. We had our changes only doomsday will show us if we wasted our time on our journey or if we enjoyed the journey and appreciated what we had. When we are at the end of our journey that’s when we have to face death. Many people forget we have to die because they might be afraid, but I’m not because it’s a part of life.
Life’s a journey till it ends.
poem by Precious Mason
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I took my lyre and said
I took my lyre and said:
Come now, my heavenly
tortoise shell: become
a speaking instrument