Mules make a great fuss about their ancestors having been horses.
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Mules make a great fuss about their ancestors having been donkeys.
Mules are always boasting that their ancestors were horses.
The Election set a trend
Despite dismal performances,
The mule has been reelected
By the mixed population
Of horses and mules in the stable.
The whole mules voted for the mule.
The opponent horse lost the race.
The horses divided themselves
And voted on ideology.
The victory of the mule is
Due more to the racial backing
Than to the performance reckoning,
An ugly trend set for the first time.
08.11.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sonnet: On The Evolution Of A Language
Nothing we do now like in yester-year's;
Nothing those days looked like we do today;
Just like a motor has its many gears,
In many ways, we try to write and say.
Convention shouldn't encroach on convenience;
By traditions, rules are for readers’ sake;
Nevertheless, one can't show lenience;
There is a way to cook; a way to bake.
But things do change for good or worse with time;
The fashions of the day dictate the rules;
But they must suit the changes in the clime;
Yet, mules aren't horses; Neither Horses mules!
What we accept today, the morrow won’t;
The old returns whether we like or don't.
poem by John Celes
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Horses should be bays, jackasses should be greys, and mules should be blackish.
Horses from Ragusa, mules from Spaccaforno, and jackasses from Modica .
For A Price
Horses and mules,
Your love is for a price!
And, i will work my way very hard to buy you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Horses and mules, and even sail cars, made more rapid progress than did the earliest locomotive.
quote by John Moody
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Long....
How long will i cry for help?
How long must i cry to you?
It is like swimming things,
Who do have rulers upon them.
How long shall this take to get to you?
How long should i wait for your love?
I will stand my watch and will be,
More fierce than the evening wolves!
The pride of your hearts have deceived you,
Like a great wind over the sea;
Three days and three nights,
A cry from the great fish to teach us all.
How Long....? Oh how long.....? !
Consider your ways like,
A cry from the Fish-Gate;
This seed will grow successfully.
Red horses,
Of each man and his cane;
Black horses,
Of each woman and her cane;
White horses,
Of the seed that will grow successfully;
Dappled horses,
Of the art of a design in my mind;
Bay horses,
Of the great wind at sea;
How long will i cry for help?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Hatred In You
Dappled horses,
Bay horses,
Red horses,
Black horses,
White horses;
However, you boasted against us all with your mouth!
Because of the hatred in you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mustangs Are Born Free (Monchielle)
Let wild horses run free
In mountains let them be
Release them let them go
Stop killing these horses
They are so scared you know
Let wild horses run free
Don't divide mom from baby
Wild horses to be free
Let them run in mountain
Don't take freedom away
Let wild horses run free
Let's join voices help horses
Take them where they belong
They truly need our help
Selling these horses wrong
Let wild horses run free
Since small I love horses
I grew up watch them grow
Mustangs are beautiful
They're unique smart you know.
September 24,2009
poem by Dorian Petersen Potter
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The Charge Of The Mule Brigade
Half a mile, half a mile,
Half a mile onward,
Right through the Georgia troops
Broke the two hundred.
'Forward the Mule Brigade!
Charge for the Rebs,' they neighed.
Straight for the Georgia troops
Broke the two hundred.
'Forward the Mule Brigade!'
Was there a mule dismayed?
Not when their long ears felt
All their ropes sundered.
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to make Rebs fly.
On! to the Georgia troops
Broke the two hundred.
Mules to the right of them,
Mules to the left of them,
Mules behind them
Pawed, neighed, and thundered.
Breaking their own confines
Breaking through Longstreet's lines
Into the Georgia troops
Stormed the two hundred.
Wild all their eyes did glare,
Whisked all their tails in air
Scattering the chivalry there,
While all the world wondered.
Not a mule back bestraddled,
Yet how they all skedaddled -
Fled every Georgian,
Unsabred, unsaddled,
Scattered and sundered!
How they were routed there
By the two hundred!
Mules to the right of them,
Mules to the left of them,
Mules behind them
Pawed, neighed, and thundered;
Followed by hoof and head
Full many a hero fled,
Fain in the last ditch dead,
Back from an ass's jaw
All that was left of them, -
Left by the two hundred.
When can their glory fade?
Oh, what a wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Mule Brigade,
Long-eared two hundred!
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Wild Horses
Childhood living
It's easy to do
The things you wanted
I bought them for you
Graceless lady
You know who I am
You know I can't let you
Slide through my hand
Wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
Wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
I watched you suffer
A dull aching pain
Now you're decided
To treat me the same
No sweeping exits
Or offstage lines
Could make me feel bitter
Or treat you unkind
Wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
Wild wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
I have my freedom
But I dont have much time
So let's do some living
After we die
Wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
Wild horses
We want them someday
song performed by by Garbage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hush The Fuss
You've been familiar with the bottom,
But it's time to look up.
And dropp excuses if you got 'em,
With a mind corrupt...
On stuff!
And thinking life is too tough.
And that you've had enough,
Because the life you live is just too rough.
Hush the fuss.
Since too many got it rougher.
You've been familiar with the bottom,
But it's time to look up.
And dropp excuses if you got 'em,
With a mind corrupt...
On stuff!
Hush the fuss.
Since too many got it rougher.
You complain about the trivial things.
But...
Hush the fuss.
Since too many got it rougher.
You want to blame your pain on others to name,
But...
Hush the fuss.
Since too many got it rougher.
And you want to play the same tired games,
But...
Hush the fuss.
Since too many got it rougher.
Hush the fuss.
Hush the fuss.
Hush the fuss,
Since too many got it rougher.
You've been familiar with the bottom,
But it's time to look up.
And dropp excuses if you got 'em,
With a mind corrupt...
On stuff!
But...
Hush the fuss.
Hush the fuss.
Yes,
Hush your fuss,
Since too many got it rougher.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Today You Guys Are Just Going To Have To Wait
At times I feel,
I provoke the ghosts...
Of my ancestors.
Especially when I know,
I am not at my best!
And rest I'd rather get.
Than to impress with those gifts,
From which I did get,
As a result of my ancestors blood and sweat.
Never did I wish,
To sit...
In the taking for granted,
Of those I represent and miss.
But I do admit,
A feeling I provoke...
The wishes of my ancestors.
Those ghosts within me that make visits.
Awaiting impatiently to do...
Not what I want.
But what they insist!
'Today you guys are just going to have to wait,
And sit.
I am tired.
I need rest.
And rest I am going to get! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Only Mules
'The submarine was quite within its rights in sinking the cargo of the Armenian,—1,422 mules valued at $191,400.'
No matter; we are only mules
And slow to understand
We drown according to the rules
Of war, we contraband
War reckons us as shot and shell,
As so much metal lost.
And mourns the dollars gone to swell
The monstrous bill of cost.
Would that we had been wrought of steel
And not of quivering flesh!
Of iron, not of nerves that feel,
And maddened limbs that thresh
The sucking seas in stubborn strife
For that dim right of ours
To what no factory fashions, life,
No Edison endowers.
Our last wild screams are choked; you know
It does not matter, for
We're only mules that suffered so,
And contraband of war.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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Grass
Give grass to the horses and the mules,
For i am sitting ona high mountain and i am enjoying the views;
And the sweet memories of your love do bath me all over!
Five loaves of bread for five thousand men,
And like the signs of the times and the face of the sky;
But the wind will always whisper your sweet name to me.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Lightning
(chorus)
Hey, whats all the fuss about?
Hey, whats all the fuss about?
Hey, whats all the fuss about?
Hey, whats all the fuss about?
They say lightning, they say lightning
Lightning never strikes twice in a row
Generations, generations
First they fight and then they forget
What they were fighting about in the first place
Here it comes, the big explosion
Havent I seen that once before
Or is it just some deja vu
Just some long forgotten dream
Just some silly memory
History does not repeat, it never, never does
(repeat chorus)
(bridge)
I should know
Ive been hit three times (or was it four? )
Im a walking testimony
Come here, look at these holes
Im a walking testimony
Just look at these holes, look at these holes!
Generations, generations
Fathers never teach their sons
And grandpa never talked to them and so on
Memories are inconvenient
When theres lessons to be learned
That just might rock the boat too much
Cause anxiety and such
We cannot walk without our crutches
We cannot walk, we cannot walk, we never, never could
(repeat chorus and bridge)
Hey, whats all the fuss about?
Hey, whats all the fuss about?
Hey, whats all the fuss about?
Hey, whats all the fuss about?
They say lightning, they say lightning
Lightning never strikes twice in a row
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Haunted By My Own
Haunted by my own.
Haunted by a bloodline...
My ancestors have sewn.
And I confess...
My obsession to do my best!
This wont leave me alone.
I feel I am here,
To make their voices known.
I can not neglect a moment of respect.
To be perceived as a disrespect.
I must protect and protest indignities!
Haunted by my own.
Haunted by a bloodline...
My ancestors have sewn.
And I confess...
The challenge to please them,
Leaves me restless to achieve.
To heights of a success...
That will have all believe I have succeeded.
And my ancestors can attest,
I have done them well!
Although my haunting will continue,
Since they and I are not quite through...
To convince with proof what I am here to do!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stallions Hope
I believe that horses can heal,
I believe that their hearts feel all that we feel,
I believe that the joy from riding is real,
I believe that horses really can heal.
I see children riding and smiling with joy,
I see happy healthy girls and boys,
I see hope for life and wonder renewed,
I see love for the children coming to you.
I see dreams for the kids, who once were lost,
I see helping hands, no matter the cost,
I see friends for kids, who once were tossed,
I see children laughing and no longer lost.
I do believe that horses can heal,
I believe that horses make recovery real,
I believe being sober is a much better deal,
I really believe that horses can heal.
And I know that this land, its buildings and stones,
Insures that our children are never alone,
Insures that our horses and children are one,
Insures that their lives will finally be won.
Yes I do believe that horses can heal.
That recovery hope and dreams are real,
That God and love can make a child whole,
That all of this is the Stallions Hope role.
poem by Sandra Osborne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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