There is no better patch than one off the same cloth.
Related quotes
Patch It Up
(words & music by eddie rabbit - rory bourke)
Weve got to patch it up baby
Before we fall apart at the seams
Weve got to patch it up baby
In the time we travel in our dreams
Lets go back and test it again
One more ride is all I ask
Get that feelin, that old feelin, it is here
We can patch it up baby,
We can patch it up baby,
We can patch it up baby,
Patch it up with all our dreams
We can patch it up baby,
Sweep out all the trouble of our heart
Weve got to patch it up baby,
Before our difference pulls us apart
Lets go where the good luck lies
Let us give it one more try
Do you feel it? that old feelin?
Do you feel it?
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The piece of cloth that is in another's bag does not patch your garmet.
Where Did You Sleep Last Night? (live)
My girl, my girl
Don't lie to me
Tell me where did you sleep last night
In a patch, in a patch
Where the sun never shines
And my body shivered all night
My girl, my girl
Don't lie to me
Tell me where did you sleep last night
In a patch, in a patch
Where the sun never shines
And my body shivered all night
Her husband was a hard working man
Killed a mile and a half from here
His head was found on a driving wheel
And his body never was found
My girl, my girl
Don't lie to me
Tell me where did you sleep last night
In a patch, in a patch
Where the sun never shines
My body shivered all night
My girl, my girl
Where will you go
To a place where the cold wind blows
To a patch, to a patch
Where the sun never shines
And my body shivers all night
My girl, my girl
Don't lie to me
Tell me where did you sleep last night
In a patch, in a patch
Where the sun never shines
And my body shivered all night
song performed by by Hole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After 60, it's just patch, patch, patch.
quote by Mary Martin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cloth of Time
The concept of time is
Like a cloth
Waving in the wind.
The wind collides
And bounces,
Causing the cloth to sway.
We are the specks
Of dust
Nestled within
The fibers of time.
This cloth is where
We sleep and wake.
This wind is the result
Of our existence.
When the wind is still
The cloth of time
Hangs
Like a man
Whose time has run out.
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Patch Of Blue
Clouds and fog in my sight,
Waiting for the sun.
Hope to see a patch of blue
Making the scene all right.
The troublesome thing that bothers me
is knowing the sun is there.
It’s behind the clouds and fog I see
And a glimpse beyond compare
is a tiny patch of blue
suspended in mid air.
Let that patch of blue become
larger in its size.
Allow it to soothe my eyes.
I need its color to intensify
on every brand new day.
I need it to burn the grayness
and send it on its way.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Art of Cloth
From fiber, to spinning wheel
From thread, to weaving mill
From textile, to sewing machine
Cloth is continuous ceremony
Whether knitting, whether embroider
Whether patchwork, whether bead work
The beautiful batik, the intricate songket
Cloth is concentration lesson
The strata symbol, the politeness norm
The body art, the cover part
Wedding dress, black tie suit
Cloth is human civilization
From skin, to fabric
From corset, to mini skirt
From blue jeans, to legging
Cloth is history record
Classic style, replied fashion
Color play, motif trend
Mismatch mode, big bang accessories
Cloth is social adaptation
Conservative nerd, ethnic vintage
Religion veil, punk rebel
Costume play, Gothic Lolita
Cloth is identity crisis
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Racism man wearing white
No stop pushing me becos
of the colour of my cloth
if nothing is done my cloth
will torn
i cann't put on white to please
you
my cloth is n't white
so leave me with my
own colour
if you do n't leave me alone
i will be force to shout
for help and if nobody help
i will be force to fight
and if i fight i will fight
to the last
so stop this racism of white
and black cloth.
poem by Senator alufalism
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Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment Story 03
I heard that a dervish, burning in the fire of poverty and sewing patch upon patch, said to comfort his mind:
‘We are contented with dry bread and a patched robe
For it is easier to bear the load of one’s own trouble
than that of thanks to others.’
Someone said to him: ‘Why sittest thou? A certain man in this town possesses a benevolent nature, is liberal to all, has girded his loins to serve the pious and is ready to comfort every heart. If he becomes aware of thy case, he will consider it an obligation to comfort the mind of a worthy person.’ He replied: ‘Hush! It is better to die of inanition than to plead for one’s necessities before any man.’
It is better to patch clothes and sit in the corner of patience
Than to write petitions for robes to gentlemen.
Verily it is equal to the punishment of hell
To go to paradise as a flunkey to one’s neighbour.
Budget
It is alway not right to say cut
Your cloth according to your coat.
It is right to say cloth be collected
keeping in view the size of the coat.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn Changes
This love of ours is gradually fading
Something is wrong, or somebodys faking
Autumn changes
Shifting phases
Autumn changes
Turning stages
Surely something can help to patch it up
Too many nights sitting here waiting
Too many days hoping and praying
Something inside seems to be dying
Most of the time I just feel like crying
Autumn changes
Shifting phases
Autumn changes
Turning stages
Surely something can help to patch it up
Oh yes we can, sure we can
Sure we can, sure we can
Autumn changes
Shifting phases
Autumn changes
Turning stages
Surely something can help to patch it up
Oh, yes we can, sure we can
Sure we can, sure we can
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For A Poet
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,
And laid them away in a box of gold;
Where long will cling the lips of the moth,
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth;
I hide no hate; I am not even wroth
Who found the earth's breath so keen and cold;
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,
And laid them away in a box of gold.
poem by Countee Cullen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paint
Pick out a color
pick out a brush
don't forget the roller
don't be in a rush
Your spectrum of colors, may scream loudly
just don't let it be drab
brighten your room and your life
your office, perhaps, even a meth lab
Remember the dropp cloth
wear grungy clothes
you need to patch the wall with spackle
cover all the holes
Sand them lightly
then prepare to paint
grab that java
florescent orange
Oh, hell no!
don't faint
Paint it pink
one color of LOVE, perhaps
just plain white
the beauty of a dove
poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Multitrack Suggestion
Years passing by
Vco
Vca
And again
And again
Years passing by
Let her go
Let her stay
In the memorys place
Gets a machine
Vco
Vca
Get the tape
Get the bass
100 + one
Multitrack
Patch bay, patch bay
Eq low cut
Free post
Frequency 1000
La da, da, da
Vco
Vca
In the memorys place
We let them pay
Vco
Vca
I am no techno-guy
The live ...
100 + one
Multitrack
Patch bay, patch bay
Eq low cut
Free post
Multitrack suggestion
Multitrack suggestion
Multitrack suggestion
Multitrack suggestion
Multitrack suggestion
Multitrack suggestion
Multitrack suggestion
Multitrack suggestion
Multitrack suggestion
Multitrack suggestion
Multitrack suggestion
Suggestion
Suggestion
Suggestion
Suggestion
Suggestion
Suggestion
Suggestion
Suggestion
Suggestion
song performed by by Vangelis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sizzling
Sizzle the cloth of its fibres,
To cut a razor you are unable to,
But it burns your fibres and the cloth,
As an open weapon of warfare
Like the fighting and the bands of people
Who die in war,
Who liven the place with guts and glory.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bathroom Barber
I'm not a bathroom barber I've learned
gave myself a hair cut with my own two hands.
When all of a sudden I heard a loud noise
which took my mind off what hair to cut I had.
Then SNIP, it went off my head!
a large patch bald of hair is missing.
The dog looked at me puzzled and barked
and the cat raised her back and was hissing!
I must admit I looked a fright
with that large patch of missing hair.
When I got up nerve to look in the mirror
I even gave myself a scare!
I was only trying to save a buck
and give myself what looked to be so easy.
But with this patch of hair now missing
my head feels a bit more breezy.
I guess I'll have to spend the money
go to someone, where to them it isn't harder.
And never again will I pretend, to be a Bathroom Barber!
poem by Linda Winchell
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Fengshui
there are some places
that inspire forlorness
a coldness that reminds
me of a patch of old snow
nobody has stepped on
but has turned yellow,
collecting grime
from polluted wind
there are some places
that has dirty fengshui
the land of which luck
spreads out like a man's body
the land that rests on a luck head
collects all the fortune
the part that rests on the bottom
that expels filth
collects all the grime, muck,
you go into the pit of misfortune
inspired by
A Patch of Old Snow
There's a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.
It is speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
The news of a day I've forgotten -
If I ever read it.
Robert Frost
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Serene
A sea of cloth on an early morning
A wooden boat afloat
The cloth of blue and gray clouds
Still touching
Hands and Lips
A man wearing a straw hat
A woman on green skirt watching
Him sail back,
A child cradled on her arms
Serene in sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Seemingly Is Vis-a-vis What Really Is
at the shop all the while what you may see is that
the two are merely haggling on a piece of cloth
a woman customer quite long asking for the right color
always asking the man that she does not like this and that
she feels the cloth silky on her hands above the man's hands
between the sheet as their mouths keep talking about the price
their eyes are speaking about something else hidden beneath
what she is really after all, she at her 40's widowed for 2 years
he at his 20's looking for a a sugar-coated mama.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sometimes you slept
Sometimes you slept with your head
right on my chest,
with your soft hairs
spread like a patch of grass
or auburn flowers
and I could see
your tender nostrils shivering
and felt your heart beating
while you clasped
my right hand
on your breast
against a big
half aroused nipple
and the whiteness of your skin,
the soft perplexity of it
the warm patch of your womanhood,
the frailty of you against me
made me feel
as if I could shelter you
against the thundering
waves of life
that was knocking against us.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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