When a man is not used to breeches the seams gall him.
Related quotes
Honesty
Let's be brutal
Its stares you in the face
But no one seams to care
We say it
As often as we can
But no one seams to care
We open up
To say what we mean
But no one seams to care
So what's the point?
Of speaking up
If no one seams to care
But if you really mean it
And it comes straight from the heart
Then never give it up
Because at least you know you care
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vision
Someone I know
Had a vision it seams
I was still here at work
Even married it seams
Now it makes me wonder
What does it all mean?
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seams In Their Stockings July 7th,2012
SEAMS IN THEIR STOCKINGS July 7th,2012
By
James Bredin
In the middle of the Twentieth Century there was a time,
We didn't have much money - sometimes not even a dime,
I still see those old girls at the Town Center now and then,
They don't recognize me with a big gray beard, again and again.
Many of those ladies who wore seams in their stocking are now old,
They nearly drove me mad back then, as they walked to and fro,
But somewhere along the way, I myself turned into an old man,
Was that in Toronto, Halifax, New York or Newfoundland?
But that was long ago before their hair turned white and cut short,
And I was much younger then and more inclined to cavort,
But I still miss those seams and wish they could come back once more,
While this old man could still watch from a distance just like before.
July 12th,2012
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Without Feeling Guilt Or Appalled At All
It's just so sad...
To think that people don't get a bite to eat.
And it's just so sad...
These people aren't the only ones seen on the streets.
Some still live in homes,
While others condone roaming all alone.
Oh it's just too sad...
To know the ones who lead aren't leaders.
Although give they do nice and sweet speeches,
As if what will be done is prioritized...
And homelessness and hunger will soon meet defeat!
It's just so sad...
To witness people struggle to their feet.
And walk for miles to try to keep up...
Their heads as they seek dwindling opportunities.
As others pass them talking,
To leave them without greeting...
Or helping out to meet their needs.
People have the gall to dropp this ball,
Without feeling guilt or appalled at all!
People have the gall to dropp this ball,
Without feeling guilt or appalled at all!
It's just so sad...
To think that people don't get a bite to eat.
And it's just so sad...
These people aren't the only ones seen on the streets.
Some still live in homes,
While others condone roaming all alone.
(It's just so...)
People have the gall to dropp this ball,
Without feeling guilt or appalled.
(It's just so...)
People have the gall to dropp this ball,
Without feeling guilt or appalled.
(It's just so...)
People have the gall to dropp this ball,
Without feeling guilt or appalled.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Confidence
Men, who man the machines
Repose confidence in them
Which they should
To a limit
Which be ascertained by inner self
Confidence when bursts the seams
Leads to inevitable
Which
Becomes evitable with bursting seams
Paradoxically
No confidence reposed on man
Who can respond
If not for evitable
Can avoid the inevitable.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Curmudgeon
I cant hide, no
On the mantle
Im not sad
Until Im home
Its the season
Im all reason
I have seen
All I have grown
Sheared at the seams
Cheat on me
And not seen
At the seams
Im a lender
Im a planter
I put something
In the garden
In the handle
On the mantle
I met santa
I met god
Im a lady
Can you save me?
Its the sulfur
I have grown
tis the season
Im all reason
I have fleas
So run on home
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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By the horn
Heightened excitement and a little fear
The matador faces a bull, with a crowd behind him it lessens his care
Frustrated, harnessed to entertain
Frantic charging with poor aim
Targeting this red rag, the bull has missed
While the matador plays to the crowd and blows a kiss
A stroke of luck, our bull has made contact
While the matador feels sheepish, the crowd witnessed the fact
Carried by his breeches he's tossed up high
Oohs, aahs, the crowd sees his breeches torn
He attempts to cover his modesty as they are exposed by a horn
Heartened, our bull charges again and delivers a better aim
Escape is on hand as the matador takes flight and is tossed into the stand.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Broken Hearts
Two hearts joined
In the fate of love
Two hearts break
In the wings of a dove
One heart still loves
Still hopes, Still dreams
One heart hurts
One heart Screams
The heart that loves
Still hopes, Still dreams
That's my heart
Torn at the seams
The heart that hurts
The one that screams
That's his heart
Torn at the seams
Two hearts lost
A beloved lil dream
The hurt the pain
A never ending dream
The heart that's his
Threw it away
The love, The affection
An eventful day
Two hearts joined
But ripped and torn
Just as violent
As a winter storm
One heart still loves
Still hopes, Still dreams
To one day fix his
and sew up the seams
But one heart still hurts
Still cries, Still screams
That's his heart
With no more dreams
A heart confused
A heart in pain
That's his heart
A heart with no gain
Two hearts broken
Ripped at the seams
But two hearts Joined
Forever in their dreams
My heart hopes
That his heart sees
The love we share
Was meant to be
My heart waits
For his to return
My heart hopes
That his will learn
That my heart and his
......Were meant to be
poem by Rose Favela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heel Over Head
Don't you walk out that door
Don't even pet the dog on the floor
Just take your things in the yard
And throw your keys anywhere
After all the things I've done for you
Year after year after burnin' year
I'm sorry for wastin all your time
I'm sorry for loosin' all my life
And I think that I'm lost and hard to find
But I feel like i'm living a dumbless life
[Chorus]
Heel over head
Jet lag sky is painted white again
I'm heel over head
Leave my eyes in the clouds agian
You don't see me at all
You don't see me at all.
You don't see me at all.
You don't see me
Don't you walk away from me
I'm givin' up everything
But i think that I'm rippin' a part at the seams
And I'm findin it hard, hard to belive
And i feel like I'm livin' inside a dream
And no one believes
And no one sees
I'm sorry for wastin all your time
And I'm sorry for loosin' on the line
[Chorus]
Or hear me
Or touch me
Or bring me
Or think that I'm rippin' a part at the seams
You don't save me at all
You don't save me at all
You dont fell me or touch me
I'm sorry, and I'm sorry for wastin'
I'm sorry, and I'm sorry for wastin'
I'm sorry, and I'm sorry you don't See me
Hear me
Touch me
Bring me
Think that I'm rippin' a part at the seams
You don't see me
Hear me
Touch me
Bring me
Think that I'm rippin' a part at the seams
You don't see me at all
You don't see me at all
You don't see me at all
You don't see me or hear me
song performed by by Puddle Of Mudd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The September Gale
I'M not a chicken; I have seen
Full many a chill September,
And though I was a youngster then,
That gale I well remember;
The day before, my kite-string snapped,
And I, my kite pursuing,
The wind whisked off my palm-leaf hat;
For me two storms were brewing!
It came as quarrels sometimes do,
When married folks get clashing;
There was a heavy sigh or two,
Before the fire was flashing,
A little stir among the clouds,
Before they rent asunder,--
A little rocking of the trees,
And then came on the thunder.
Lord! how the ponds and rivers boiled!
They seemed like bursting craters!
And oaks lay scattered on the ground
As if they were p'taters
And all above was in a howl,
And all below a clatter,
The earth was like a frying-pan,
Or some such hissing matter.
It chanced to be our washing-day,
And all our things were drying;
The storm came roaring through the lines,
And set them all a flying;
I saw the shirts and petticoats
Go riding off like witches;
I lost, ah! bitterly I wept,--
I lost my Sunday breeches!
I saw them straddling through the air,
Alas! too late to win them;
I saw them chase the clouds, as if
The devil had been in them;
They were my darlings and my pride,
My boyhood's only riches,--
"Farewell, farewell," I faintly cried,--
"My breeches! O my breeches!"
That night I saw them in my dreams,
How changed from what I knew them!
The dews had steeped their faded threads,
The winds had whistled through them!
I saw the wide and ghastly rents
Where demon claws had torn them;
A hole was in their amplest part,
As if an imp had worn them.
I have had many happy years,
And tailors kind and clever,
But those young pantaloons have gone
Forever and forever!
And not till fate has cut the last
Of all my earthly stitches,
This aching heart shall cease to mourn
My loved, my long-lost breeches!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There's no catching trouts with dry breeches.
There's no taking trout with dry breeches.
quote by Miguel de Cervantes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where the woman wears the breeches, she has a good right to them.
We know but a few men, a great many coats and breeches.
quote by Henry David Thoreau
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unaccustomed to wear them, he displays the breeches he has on to every one he meets.