The poor man seeks only a crumb, then finds he still hungers.
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Poor Little Girl
Poor Little Girl
Nobody cares what she does
She only lives what she was
In her mind reliving thoughts of yesterday
‘til she finds she knows her way she’ll have to play poor little girl
Poor little girl
Why can’t she love what she’s seen
People don’t want her to’ve been
Wasting time and living in her yesterday
‘til she finds she knows her way she’ll have to play poor little girl
Poor little girl
Her heart will shoulder
Who she’s intended to be
She may never know her
Until she has set herself free
Harboring the darkest nights of yesterday
So until she finds her way she’ll have to play poor little girl
Poor little girl
She’s so important to me
I admit I use to be
Runnin’ never knowin’ of my destiny
Blessings in disguise today that end that play
Poor little girl,
Poor little girl
Poor little girl
Little girl’s me
Copyright 1969, Will Fiala
poem by Will Fiala
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He who seeks rest finds boredom. He who seeks work finds rest.
quote by Dylan Thomas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paradise Road
I grew up dirty and I grew up poor
The wolf didnt even hang round our door
Not a crumb to spare and the cupboard bare
And I had the gift of imagination
I could change my situation
Anytime I choose I could always go
Down paradise road
I found a kingdom deep within
A place dream and to pretend
And to prepare for the world out there
A dream can dress you when youre ragged
Fill you up when hungers naggin
I warmed my soul when life was cold
On paradise road
Chorus:
Paradise is a state of mind
The sun shines warm and all the time
And the rain dont flow and the wind dont blow
On paradise road
A place no one can take from me
A place of everlasting peace
Where dreamers go; its never closed
Paradise road
Paradise is a state of mind
Down the road of life and time
And the friends we meet
Make the travlin sweet
On paradise road
Sometimes now when the world is mad
I find that place Ive always had
Inside my soul; its paved in gold
Paradise road
I grew up dirty and I grew up poor
The wolf didnt even hang round our door
Not a crumb to spare and the cupboard bare
But I had the gift of imagination
I could change my situation
Anytime I choose I could always go
Down paradise road
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wants- sex definer
A confident woman, the man seeks.
An intelligent man, the woman seeks.
A good-featured woman, the man seeks.
A good-natured man, the woman seeks.
A modest woman, the man seeks.
An intellectual man, the woman seeks.
A virtuous woman, the man seeks.
A chivalrous man, the woman seeks.
Be graceful, women!
Be brave, men!
06.05.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Robert Crumb is an influence on how I draw, but not on the subject matter I take or my approach. One thing I do like about Crumb is that he's chronicled his age, his times, and I think that is what artists should do.
A Miracle for Breakfast
At six o'clock we were waiting for coffee,
waiting for coffee and the charitable crumb
that was going to be served from a certain balcony
--like kings of old, or like a miracle.
It was still dark. One foot of the sun
steadied itself on a long ripple in the river.
The first ferry of the day had just crossed the river.
It was so cold we hoped that the coffee
would be very hot, seeing that the sun
was not going to warm us; and that the crumb
would be a loaf each, buttered, by a miracle.
At seven a man stepped out on the balcony.
He stood for a minute alone on the balcony
looking over our heads toward the river.
A servant handed him the makings of a miracle,
consisting of one lone cup of coffee
and one roll, which he proceeded to crumb,
his head, so to speak, in the clouds--along with the sun.
Was the man crazy? What under the sun
was he trying to do, up there on his balcony!
Each man received one rather hard crumb,
which some flicked scornfully into the river,
and, in a cup, one drop of the coffee.
Some of us stood around, waiting for the miracle.
I can tell what I saw next; it was not a miracle.
A beautiful villa stood in the sun
and from its doors came the smell of hot coffee.
In front, a baroque white plaster balcony
added by birds, who nest along the river,
--I saw it with one eye close to the crumb--
and galleries and marble chambers. My crumb
my mansion, made for me by a miracle,
through ages, by insects, birds, and the river
working the stone. Every day, in the sun,
at breakfast time I sit on my balcony
with my feet up, and drink gallons of coffee.
We licked up the crumb and swallowed the coffee.
A window across the river caught the sun
as if the miracle were working, on the wrong balcony.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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I met Robert Crumb in 1962; he lived in Cleveland for a while. I took a look at his stuff. Crumb was doing stuff beyond what other writers and artists were doing. It was a step beyond Mad.
quote by Harvey Pekar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who seeks that which he must not, finds that which he wants not.
He that seeks, finds, and sometimes what he would rather not.
A Poem Writes Itself
A poem writes itself
I merely follow
As it leads me
through the shadows
A poem seeks itself
And the light
I'll surrender …I write
A poem finds a way to be heard-
I try to remember each word from my
mouth to my ears to my hands
Then, to the world's
A poem finds a voice
I become, pen and paper
A poem makes a choice
I, the ghostwriter
poem by Sonya Florentino
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On the Uses of Adversity
"Nam nihil est, quod non mortalibus afferat usum."
--PETRONIUS
Nothing there is that mortal man may utterly despise;
What in our wealth we treasured, in our poverty we prize.
The gold upon a sinking ship has often wrecked the boat,
While on a simple oar a shipwrecked man may keep afloat.
The burglar seeks the plutocrat, attracted by his dress--
The poor man finds his poverty the true preparedness.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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The intellect seeks, the heart finds.
quote by George Sand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poet Finds....
The poet finds whatever the moon could not see,
The poet finds whatever the earth does not know,
The poet finds whatever the sun could not see,
The poet finds whatever others do not know,
The poet finds whatever the stars could not see,
So why do the heathen rage and the people plot vanity? !
For she who is pregnant is closer to us,
And the hart pants after streams of water.
Your tears have been your food night and day,
And like your inner self in the lan dof your muse;
But the poet finds whatever the sun could not see.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Despair, in short, seeks its own environment as surely as water finds its own level.
quote by A. Alvarez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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