In my day, at 12 years old, which was 38 years ago, we worked out in summer months for two and a half hours. Today someone in that age group might work out for four hours, two hours in the morning and two at night.
quote by Mark Spitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Four hours of makeup, and then an hour to take it off. It's tiring. I go in, I get picked up at two-thirty in the morning, I get there at three. I wait four hours, go through it, ready to work at seven, work all day long for twelve hours, and get it taken off for an hours, go home and go to sleep, and do the same thing again.
quote by Peter Sarsgaard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is All About You
1 hour unity,
2 hours peace,
3 hours playing,
4 hours sleeping,
5 hours smiling,
6 hours living,
7 hours trusting in your muse!
For this river is mine and yours foeevers;
And, i want to be close to you always.
1 hour smiling,
2 hours learning,
3 hours thinking,
4 hours with your muse,
5 hours teaching,
6 hours working,
But, the 7th hour comes for me to sleep with you;
Because, this love is all about you! !
And, i want to be with you always.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Help Myself
A hungry boy
In a town of one hundred more
The food is out the door
Makes me want to help myself, help my-
A river red
Pouring from the side of his head
A bullet through the brain
Make him feel different today
Oh, colder grow the days
Oh, must faster pass the years by
til we die
A treasure not my own
I take it, tuck it, nobody will notice
Well that suits me well
Big house, big yard, help myself, help myself
You know, every once in a while
To help the helpless comes into style
Mercy, mercy mile
1-800-help-myself, help myself
Oh, colder grow the days
Oh, much fast pass the years by
Oh, colder grow the days
Oh, much faster pass the years by
til we die
Summers here were dancing in the daisies
Summers rain burns holes in the flowers
Dangerous hours
Dangerous hours
Dangerous hours
Every now and then
Tv preachers tell of heaven
Redemption for a penny a soul
1-800- help-yourself, help yourself
Help yourself, oh
Summers here, were swimming in the river
Summer rain, come down, come down, come down, come down yeah
Summers here, were dancing in the daisies
Summer rain burns holes in the flowers
Dangerous hours
Dangerous hours
Dangerous hours
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hours Continuing Long
HOURS continuing long, sore and heavy-hearted,
Hours of the dusk, when I withdraw to a lonesome and unfrequented
spot, seating myself, leaning my face in my hands;
Hours sleepless, deep in the night, when I go forth, speeding swiftly
the country roads, or through the city streets, or pacing miles
and miles, stifling plaintive cries;
Hours discouraged, distracted--for the one I cannot content myself
without, soon I saw him content himself without me;
Hours when I am forgotten, (O weeks and months are passing, but I
believe I am never to forget!)
Sullen and suffering hours! (I am ashamed--but it is useless--I am
what I am;)
Hours of my torment--I wonder if other men ever have the like, out of
the like feelings?
Is there even one other like me--distracted--his friend, his lover,
lost to him?
Is he too as I am now? Does he still rise in the morning, dejected,
thinking who is lost to him? and at night, awaking, think who
is lost?
Does he too harbor his friendship silent and endless? harbor his
anguish and passion? 10
Does some stray reminder, or the casual mention of a name, bring the
fit back upon him, taciturn and deprest?
Does he see himself reflected in me? In these hours, does he see the
face of his hours reflected?
poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer Home In Your Arms
You take your coat off and throw it on the floor
Night delivers you to my arms once more
You feel so familiar as you get into bed
Cigarette smoke halo around you head
You lean over and kiss me so sweet...
I could lay with you like this for hours...
Hours and hours
Building a summer home in your arms
I kiss you with the languid adiration of slumber
Landin random as lotto numbers
One for each eye
And, oops, one on your nose
And ten for each of your cute little toes
You lean over and kiss me so sweet...
I could lay with you like this for hours...
Hours and hours...
Building a summer home in your arms
Am I crazy, do I talk too much?
Sometimes I think your silence is a crutch
Am I mad, are you married?
Oh jesus this love stuff can sure be scary
But so sweet... so sweet
Here in your arms
Im a bit of a mess and Im gone too much
But when Im away its you I long to touch
And certain things remind me its such a special treat
As these little things that bring you to me
You lean over and kiss me so sweet...
I could lay with you like this for hours...
Hours and hours...
Building a summer home in your arms
Im building a summer home in your arms
Im building a summer home in your arms
Im building a summer home in your arms
Built with all your charms
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem that Played with Me!
We played and played
Hours days months years
You went your way
And I went my way
Then began a game
Of hide and seek
Tired I pushed the door
There you're hiding...
Tired I dropped to the floor
There you're under the cot
Did you go your way?
Did I go my way?
We still play and play
Hours days months years
You didn't really go anywhere
Nor did I go my way!
(26 May 2011)
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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It's a shame that the only thing a man can do for eight hours a day is work. He can't eat for eight hours; he can't drink for eight hours; he can't make love for eight hours. The only thing a man can do for eight hours is work.
quote by William Faulkner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Flower of Sorrow
Summer comes and summer goes,
But all months of all years
There is falling of tears;
Summer comes and summer goes,
All hours are grief's, and the sower sows:
To-day and to-morrow
The Flower of Sorrow
Buds and blows.
poem by John Vance Cheney from Century Magazine, Volume 47, Issue 5 (1894)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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2 Weeks
14 Days left
336 hours
Until the end of this chapter
The chapter of hell in my life
2 weeks until I leave
8 hours a day
8 hours of hell in this school
Dealing with ignorance driven by people
Pushing back judgmental walls
After all 8 years in this prison
All I have is 2 weeks,14 days,336 hours left inside this hellhole
Now I can’t figure out what to do
Skip graduation, or stand on the stage and face the music?
That answer has left me then came back
In just 2 week I’ll be gone never to set foot inside again
In just 14 days I’ll leave and never turn back
In just 336 hours, my face will be erased from this place
2 weeks until I graduate from 8th grade
Why now, it must end sooner
In just 2 months I’ll be in high school
2 weeks…
14 days… 336 hours…
The memory of me will be gone
poem by Marcellus Watts
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The Night Cometh
Work! for the night is coming;
Work! through the morning hours;
Work! while the dew is sparkling;
Work! 'mid the springing flowers;
Work! while the day grows brighter,
Under the glowing sun;
Work! for the night is coming,--
Night, when man's work is done.
Work! for the night is coming;
Work! through the sunny noon;
Fill the bright hours with labour,
Rest cometh sure and soon.
Give to each flying minute
Something to keep in store;
Work! for the night is coming,--
Night, when man works no more.
Work! for the night is coming;
Under the sunset skies,
While their bright tints are glowing,
Work! for the daylight flies;
Work! till the last beam fadeth,
Fadeth to shine no more;
Work! while the night is darkening,--
Night, when man's work is o'er.
poem by Annie Louisa Walker
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A child's plea- for you, of you, to you! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Fog, fog, go away
Want to go out and play.
Please, Can’t bear the cold.
Am just six and a half years old.
Been waiting for hours and hours.
Nose pressed against the glass.
My feet are getting numb,
am feeling, oh, so glum.
Need the warmth of Sun,
And go out for some fun.
Mama makes me wear gloves,
Can’t feed the lovely dove.
Or else shall slip in bed
Read about the gingerbread.
But I want to feel gay,
And go out and play.
Please, please go away.
Come on a hot summer day.
Promise, shall let you stay.
All night and all through the day.
For Anika- my grand daughter
Mamta Agarwal
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Flight Delays (Life Poem)
Sympathyless disbelief when I complain again,
Delays are the balance for the glamour of flying.
Nine hours in Sao Paulo while the ATC strike,
Eight hours in Vienna while new wheel flies in,
Seven sins would be justified by this purgatory,
Six times six hours from CBB to DUB last week,
Five hours sweating in Port au Prince plastic chair,
Four hours for rain in Miami seems not so bad,
Three hours in Shannon for bomb threat search,
Two hours sitting in Seattle with mad dash in Kennedy.
One would be happier walking, swimming or driving.
poem by Ian Beckett
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7 Hours
Today's a sunny day
And there's a lot of time to go with it
For me
I want to celebrate and have fun for 7 hours
So ladies and gentlemen
Make the food
Fill up the drinks
It's going to be a fun 7 hours
I'll bring my poems
Maybe my photos
Perhaps even show the ladies a dance I know
7 hours
And the time is ours
Full of nice memories
Full of good times
Full of new friendships
Full of whatever we want to make of it
These 7 hours
These 7 hours of perhaps stress free and
drama free
These 7 hours to be what we want it to be
poem by Justin Gildow
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It's fun working on the set... I usually work about 10 and a half hours a day, and I also study about five of those hours. It can be tiring, but it's fun!
quote by Mila Kunis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shorter Week
I worked for fifty hours a week,
And someone said to me,
'Don't be a serf! Throw off your chains,
And show the world you're free!'
So I cut down my working hours
And found, upon the whole,
The leisure time I had to spare
Good for my body's carking care,
And better for my soul.
I worked for forty hours a week,
And someone said to me,
'Release your bonds, you shackled slave!
Show all the world you're free!'
So I reduced my working hours
And found in leisured lull,
The more I sought to play, the more
Amusement had become a bore,
And life was rather dull.
I worked for twenty hours a week,
And someone said to me
'Awake, you mutt! Snap out of it,
And show the world you're free!'
So I cut out my working hours
And found that joy had flit.
Upon black melancholia's brink,
I sometimes used to sit and think
And sometimes merely sit.
I worked for not one hour a week,
And someone said to me,
'You lazy coot! Arise and shine!
You call this being free?'
So I resolved I'd better far
Rejoin the toiling mob.
But when I rose and looked around,
To my intense digust I found
Someone had pinched my job.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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At a Hasty Wedding
If hours be years the twain are blest,
For now they solace swift desire
By bonds of every bond the best,
If hours be years. The twain are blest
Do eastern stars slope never west,
Nor pallid ashes follow fire:
If hours be years the twain are blest,
For now they solace swift desire.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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The Best Time Of The Day
Cool summer nights.
Windows open.
Lamps burning.
Fruit in the bowl.
And your head on my shoulder.
These the happiest moments in the day.
Next to the early morning hours,
of course. And the time
just before lunch.
And the afternoon, and
early evening hours.
But I do love
these summer nights.
Even more, I think,
than those other times.
The work finished for the day.
And no one who can reach us now.
Or ever.
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
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The Village
When a new life turns towards you
And the night becomes a bay
We shall remain forever
Everyone who meets his way
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The rain and the sea and the hours
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The rain and the sea and the hours
When the rain falls to the sea
Theyll be waiting for you and for me
And the sky reflects our image
Trying to sleep right through our lives
Oh, our love is like the earth
The sun and the trees and the birth
Oh, our love is like the earth
The sun and the trees and the birth
I am still here two days later
Same place, same time
And Im stuck here two years too long
Same place, the wrong time
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The rain and the sea and the hours
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The sun and the sea and the hours
Their love died three years ago
Spoken words I cannot show
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think the act of condensing months or years of work down to a couple hours of entertainment is pretty wild and extremely rewarding.
quote by Richard King
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Dance
Wake up! its a monday morning
No time left to say goodbye
Cant breathe and the lights are changing.
You can live your own life
Making it happen
Working on your own time
Laid back and laughin
Oh no, oh no.
Headlights, make it home by sundown
Feeling that the day is through
Return back to where you come from
You can live your own life
Making it happen
Working on your own time
Laid back and laughin
Oh no, oh no.
You wake up in the mornin
And the suns comin up.
Its been up for hours and hours and hours
And hours and hours and hours
Its been up for hours and hours and hours
And you light up the stove
And the coffee cup, its hot.
And the orange juice is cold, cold, cold
Monday morning,
Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up
Its time to go,
Time to go to work.
You can live your own life
Making it happen
Working on your own time
Laid back and laughin
Oh no, oh no.
No, no, no.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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