Related quotes: There are three things that...

There are three things that have to be done quickly: burying the dead, opening the door for a stranger, and fixing your daughter's wedding.

Persian proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes

Buddhist Lesson # 2

enlightment,
the act of opening,
like a rosebud,

like a mother,
opening the door...
like a child

opening a present,
like a woman
opening to a man....

opening...
all the hidden chambers,
every door to every

secret kingdom of the soul.....
opening the box that holds
your secret thoughts, desires....

opening...
the door of the cage,
letting the winged breath fly....

opening....
your heart to itself,
and to all hearts beating....

opening....
the vault of conceptions,
the entrance to the tomb

of past lives and memories....
opening...
your hands to the world

as if it were your neighbor,
and you, it's home!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fixin To Die

(first releasebooker t. washington (bukka) white)
Feeling funny in my mind, lord,
I believe Im fixing to die
Feeling funny in my mind, lord
I believe Im fixing to die
Well, I dont mind dying
But I hate to leave my children crying
Well, I look over yonder to that burying ground
Look over yonder to that burying ground
Sure seems lonesome, lord, when the sun goes down
Feeling funny in my eyes, lord,
I believe Im fixing to die, fixing to die
Feeling funny in my eyes, lord
I believe Im fixing to die
Well, I dont mind dying but
I hate to leave my children crying
Theres a black smoke rising, lord
Its rising up above my head, up above my head
Its rising up above my head, up above my head
And tell jesus make up my dying bed.
Im walking kind of funny, lord
I believe Im fixing to die, fixing to die
Yes Im walking kind of funny, lord
I believe Im fixing to die
Fixing to die, fixing to die
Well, I dont mind dying
But I hate to leave my children crying.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stranger Than You

At a bar on 43rd at quarter to two
Met my friend the chinese elvis and hoisted a few
He talks like mickey mouse
And sees with x-ray eyes
Lives in a cardboard house
I almost gave him the prize
Until you
Came along - thanks for opening my eyes
Things you do - right or wrong
It should come as no surprise
When you live in a town where theres always somebody
Stranger than you
At 83rd and amsterdam theres an indian jew
Who pierced all his private parts with a permanent screw
He sleeps on a bed of nails
Which came from outer space
And in my taller tales
I gave him pride of place
Until you
Came along - thanks for opening my eyes
Things you do - right or wrong
It should come as no surprise
When you live in a town where theres always somebody stranger than you
Stranger than you
Im not complaining even though Im not sure what you are
Ive got the strangest feeling (good) about this love bizarre
I could have stayed in bed
H iding from this freaky show
Im happy that instead
I knew just where to go
When you came along - thanks for opening my eyes
Things you do - right or wrong
It should come as no surprise
When you live in a town where theres always somebody
Stranger than you
Are you a boy - are you a girl
Are you an oyster - are you a pearl
Are you a fish - are you a fowl?
Are you an angel - are you from hell

song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dead Next Door

Watch the sky
For a reason why
Im safe here
Sunday it was part
Monday it was none
Monday was none
For the dead next door
One pair of silent terror reins
And were the dead next door
The heat of the day fades away
Fades into the night
The heat of the day
Offering a wedding
Suffering away
For the dead next door
You see
One error, silent terror
And were the dead next door
In animal land
And dark is in command
One thing you should know
Dont hear that knocking
Dont eat out of their hand
Dont stumble, die
You say
Dont stumble, cry
They see you and me
You and me
With the dead next door
You and me
With the dead next door
You and me
With the dead next door

song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loud Is The Cry Of War

Loud is the cry of war
Many people shall it smite

Opening up death's dark door
Our people shaken to the core
As we feel our enemies bite
Loud is the cry of war

Many soldiers now implore
If this battle was worth the fight
Opening up death's dark door

Many hearts lie broken and torn
An Endless number of sleepless nights
Loud is the cry of war

Crowded will be heaven's shore
As the dead now take their heavenly flight
Opening up death's dark door

Although we won, we lost much more
As empty cries echo through the night
Opening up death's dark door
Loud is the cry of was

poem by Cat Winder
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Water Tender

The river
has not entered the house yet.

I pack framed photographs:
weddings, babies,
dead uncles, and grandparents,
set aside ceramic eggs,

balanced on wooden stands,
to reach the wedding cake couple,
equidistant between two photographs.

My mother,
in her borrowed wedding dress,
holding a bouquet of artificial flowers,
whiter than Aunt Rose Mary's silk skirt.

My father,
in his Navy uniform, bearing
the insignia of a Water Tender,

his cap worn tilted to the right.
Standing midpoint,
the wedding cake couple
represents their union.

Flesh colored paint overlaps
the neckline of the bride,
executed too quickly.

The groom's black top-hat
is worn, a wedding ring shape
encircles the edge of the crown.
My mother is dead,

my father has remarried. He's left
behind the photographs, the eggs,
the wedding cake couple.

The river enters an open door.
I salvage what I can.

poem by Mary Agnes Dalrymple
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i Still Have Time

for things we like to do
we just do them and then for things we do not like doing
we always say, ' i still have time'

and time has no mercy for without us it goes
and then gone

and for all the things we have not done
we still say, ' i still have time'

and then there is this sunset that fades too quickly
orange to black, and then the world is too dark and silent and cold
for all the things that we have not done

time is dead and we have not done
the things that we should have done

time is too short for those that we love to do
the sinful ones
time is too long for those that we ought to do
those that could have opened the doors for our salvation

time is dead and then we are gone
regret laughs the hardest and the door to hell opens like the mouth of the
mad one.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stranger In My Own House

(a capella: she said: boy, your luck is running out...she make me feel like a stranger...in my own house)
I come stumbling in at a quarter to three
To the sound of my own dog growlin at me
Im scared to move or turn on a light
Youve got me creepin around in the dark
Like a thief in the night
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
Ive got no place to live
I never feel at home
I walk into the kitchen to see whats there
Im tired and Im hungry but the cupboards bare
Ive been working all day and all night too
I cant believe this is all I have to come back to
I guess Ill take a look upstairs, in the danger zone
I wonder what Im doing here
When I never feel at home
Im a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Im a stranger in my own house
Ill huff and Ill puff and Ill blow this house down
Cant be a stranger in my own house
I see the do not disturb sign on my bedroom door
What is this sheet and pillow laying on the floor
I wore out my welcome
I hear you loud and clear
Its time to get a few things straight around here
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
Ive got a place to live but I never feel at home
Im just a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Stranger in my own house
Ill huff and Ill puff and Ill blow this house down
Cant be a stranger in my own house
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
With a woman like you Im better off alone
Im a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Im just a stranger in my own house
Oh, honey Im home
Im just a stranger in my own house
Im just a stranger in my own house
You got a lion on your hands girl, not a mouse!
Im just a stranger in my own house
Im just a stranger in my own house
Well, somebodys got to go...
Stranger
Stranger

song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stranger In The Wind...

Stranger in the wind...
Beckons at my door.

Stanger in the wind...
Wanting even more.

Stranger in the wind...
Hard to really ignore.

Stranger in the wind..
Making my heart ache, as sore.

Stranger in the wind...
Rapping at my door.

Stanger in the wind...
Who knows i am so poor.

Stranger in the wind...
My time here-has me bore...

Many aches and pains of a thirsting heart...
Can only be quenched by ye, your remembered part.

Stranger in the wind...
My heart, you'll win.

Stranger in the wind...
Yon soul so deep.

Stranger in the wind...
My heart you'll keep.

Stranger in the wind...
my soul you'll reap.

Stranger in the wind...
You make me weep.

poem by Michael Gale
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Stranger Things Have Happened

(David Chamberlain)
I hate to admit it
But somebody else came along and took you're love away
And tonight as I lay here
All alone in this room
He's out there some where
Takin' my place
Stranger things have happened to me
And it's getting all over town
That stranger things have happened to me
That stranger is holding her now
She said I had better stop running around
Or she was gonna find somebody new
And that lady meant it
Because now she's gone
And someone else is walking in my shoes
Stranger things have happened to me
And it's getting all over town
That stranger things have happened to me
That stranger is holding her now
That stranger is holding her now

song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mothers And Their Daughters

they struck him down hard early in life
he slaps me around plenty
i cannot leave
my daughter never cries

to feed my daughter
i will take on the whole lot of you
the young men howl

i am a mother in time of famine
my daughter dying at my breast
my husband wants a son

my first child a love child a daughter
a wedding to make it right
a family joke to keep me honest

they have a one child policy here
he took my first child my daughter
sold her to the americans

as a child they mutilated me
for fear i might become the woman i am
they will never get to my daughter

I am told to hate my burqa
it keeps my secret from him
my daughter will wear the burqa

poem by Paul Bamberger
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Fixing A Hole

I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
And stops my mind from wandering
Where will it go
I'm filling the cracks that ran through the door
And kept my mind from wandering
Where will it go
And it really doesn't matter if i'm wrong
I'm right
Where i belong i'm right
Where i belong.
See the people standing there who disagree and never win
And wonder why they don't get in my door.
I'm painting my room in the colourful way
And when my mind is wandering
There i will go.
And it really doesn't matter if
I'm wrong i'm right
Where i belong i'm right
Where i belong.
Silly people run around they worry me
And never ask me why they don't get past my door.
I'm taking the time for a number of things
That weren't important yesterday
And i still go.
I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
And stops my mind from wandering
Where it will go.

song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Daughter of Africa

Daughter of Africa
You are walking now
And tread the path
Away from me

Daughter of Africa
You are touching now
While my body is
Away from you

Daughter of Africa
You are moist now
Not knowing the stranger
Who enters you

Daughter of Africa
You sleep now
While my heart
Yearns for you

Daughter of Africa
You are dieing now
And you finally remember
Me
Who cried for you.

poem by Peter Rhodes
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Grey and Mournful Stranger

Years haunted by that stranger
That dark stranger from my past
Now diminished in his influence
With his picture fading fast.

You ask me who’s that stranger
And why did he have that power
To regulate my daily life
And render sweetness sour?

That stranger was false memories
That stranger was a dream
Of how I seemed to others
Not what I might have been.

That stranger would forbid me
From seeking freedom’s goals
That stranger like a tourniquet
Was slow strangling my soul.

That grey and mournful stranger
Now a stranger clear to me
Was simply an illusion
And was never meant to be.

But now his picture’s fading
My feelings now feel real once more
I shan’t seek out that stranger
Nor invite him to my door.

For I’d mistaken that cold stranger
For a person I once knew
But that person was not ever me
And it’s now time to start anew.

poem by David Keig
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For My Wedding

(larry john mcnally)
For my wedding, I will dress in black
And never again will I look back
Ah, my dark angels we must part
For Ive made a sanctuary of my heart
To want what I have
To take what Im given with grace
For this I pray
On my wedding day
For my wedding, I dont want violins
Or sentimental songs about thick and thin
I want a moment of silence and a moment of prayer
For the love well need to make it in the world out there
To want what I have
To take what Im given with grace
For this I pray
On my wedding day
On my wedding day
I dream, and my dreams are all glory and light
Thats what Ive wanted for my life
And if it hasnt always been that way
Well, I can dream and I can pray
On my wedding day
So what makes us any different from all the others
Who have tried and failed before us
Maybe nothing, maybe nothing at all
But I pray were the lucky ones; I pray we never fall
To want what we have
To take what were given with grace
For these things I pray
On my wedding day
On my wedding day

song performed by by Don Henley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good bye my daughter

Good bye my lovely and dear daughter
You will be leaving behind grief and no laughter
You were so beautiful and very much sought after
You were engaged in lavish style with grand dinner

It was great to be part of your wedding ceremony
My eyes were getting wet intermittently but not seen by many
I was overjoyed and much excited with the grand occasion
It was going to be opening of new bond and relation

The idea itself hurt me from within as if cut by knife
She will be flown many miles away to be called somebody’s wife
The though itself reminded me of the traditional custom
Where daughter has to be given farewell like stardom

The day was awaited since long and discussed
Full preparation was on for not a single thing to be missed
It was as if do or die battle for no let up in preparation
It was bringing tears in my eyes at slight reminder of separation

She had come up as very much loved child
We were very much considerate and kind
We were getting nervous if she was not found
We will run all over for search and see all around

She was naughty but very much wise
She will take enough care not to make any surprise
We were not accustomed to her absence
We would love her to be before us in al the sense

Baby child is always given top importance
It is because she has to live company at once
She won’t stay with us for any longer
She will leave us behind as stranger

We did not notice the passing of time so quickly
She had attained womanhood and was to be married immediately
Even though she had picked life partner from her own circle
We had no other choice but give approval for being very practical

Nothing seemed to be unusual or strange
We were to go for it and arrange
She was to be given descent reception
We all waited for it with open options

It was giving joy and at the same times some grief
She was to live with very good family and much to our relief
It was not the concern at all but only her absence
We were to miss her face in everybody’s presence

I could not cry in open but felt at heart
I was grieving deeply and was likely to start
I feared some tears may dropp on the ground
It will hurt daughter deeply if she ever found

I did not cry till the last
I broke down when her plane disappeared very fast
The isolator days were to be the only friends
Though it was with mixed feelings at the end

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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You draw beautifully with your pencil

You draw beautifully with your pencil,
sketches of almost any flower and plant,
things that are alive and some things that are dead

even a woman giving birth
on the beach.
You draw beautifully with your pencil

on a table are slices of bread
with a hungry dog on the other side;
things that are alive and some things that are dead,

there are children that are wasting away from starvation
and a woman’s hand with a wedding band.
You draw beautifully with your pencil,

a sounding level going down a well
being held by a strong male hand.
Things that are alive and some things that are dead,

you sketch and sometimes it’s any thing valuable;
even people in love on a tropical island
and you draw beautifully with your pencil
things that are alive and some things that are dead.

poem by Gert Strydom
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For a Daughter Who Leaves

A woman weaves
her daughter's wedding
slippers that will carry
her steps into a new life.
The mother weeps alone
into her jeweled sewing box
slips red thread
around its spool,
the same she used to stitch
her daughter's first silk jacket
embroidered with turtles
that would bring luck, long life.
She remembers all the steps
taken by her daughter's
unbound quick feet:
dancing on the stones
of the yard among yellow
butterflies and white breasted sparrows.
And she grew, legs strong
body long, mind
independent.
Now she captures all eyes
with her hair combed smooth
and her hips gently
swaying like bamboo.
The woman
spins her thread
from the spool of her heart,
knotted to her daughter's
departing
wedding slippers.

poem by Janice Mirikitani
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I Am... (The Rage Of Love)

i am the gun,
in the hands of the thinker,
the last road, the last chance,
the last prayer, the last door.
i am the sickness,
that greed inflicted,
that apathy wont touch,
that stinks at the table.
i am the parents,
burying their child,
i am the stranger,
burying the parents.
i am the poor,
denied the word freedom.
i am skin of color,
covered by tasteless white skin.
i am the rope,
hanging from the rafters.
and the holy book
that tied the noose.
i am the drug of charity
that denies involvement.
i am the token gesture
made by hands that never open.
i am the dollar and the dime,
and the vast wasteland between.
i am the sound of books burning,
and the crackle of flesh.
i am the cry for justice,
lost to the din of noise.
i am the noise of ignorance,
that shouts defiantly at stillness.
i am the face of the small child,
whose parents just died.
i am the rage of love,
too long denied!