It is fortunate that diplomats have long noses since they usually cannot see beyond them.
quote by Paul Claudel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sacred And Eternal
I am fortunate to be a poet with words periodical
I am fortunate to write poems sacred and eternal.
I am fortunate to see the world in new look
I am fortunate to be in poetic imagination
With evergreen colors sacred and eternal.
I am fortunate to be a part and parcel of the world
That is yours and only yours
And you are for all sacred and eternal.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fortunate Son
Some folks are born made to wave the flag
Ooh, they're red, white, and blue
And when the band plays hail to the chief
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no senator's son, son, son
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, no
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord, don't they help themselves now
And when the tax man comes to the door
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no millionaire's son, son, son
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, no, no
Some folks inherit star-spangled eyes
Ooh, they send you down to war
And when you ask 'em how much should we give
Ooh, they only answer more, more, more, more
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no military son, son, son
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, one, one
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate son, son, son
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fortunate Son
Some folks are born
Made to wave that flag
Ooh that red, white 'n blue
And when they play
'Hail to the Cheif'
Ooh they point the cannon at you, lord
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate son
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, no
Some folks are born
Silver spoon in hand
Lord don't they help themselves?
And when the taxman
Knocks on their door
Ooh the house looks like a rummage sale, yeah
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate son
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no millionaires son, no, no
Some folks are born
Starspangled eyes
Ooh they send you out to war
And when Australia asks
'How much do we get?'
Ooh they just ask for more and more and more and more and more and...
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no millionaires son, no
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, one, one
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no CIA son, no
It ain't me, it ain't me
I ain't no fortunate son, son, son
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So
So, what's it gonna' be...
I waited patiently, stubby pencil in hand.
'...chicken or fish? '
She was planning a dinner party, the magnificent woman-
'Um...um...why not both? Oh, and we need some candles...put those down.'
'ok...both, ' I wrote, 'chicken and fish. Who are these people you're inviting?
'Just a bunch of diplomats. Oh, and flowers, but I'll get those.'
'Diplomats? What kind? ' I inquired, idly.
'I don't know, yet. Whatever's not on sale. But there's only one kind of diplomat. You'd best be going. They'll be here in six hours.'
I rose to go.
'And the salad? ' I remembered.
'What about it? , she asked, tying on an apron.
'What kind? '
'Mista.'
'Yes, sir, ' I saluted, and left.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fortunate Son
Some folks are born made to wave the flag
Ooh, theyre red, white and blue
And when the band plays hail to the chief
They point the cannon right at you
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no senators son
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate son
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord they dont help themselves
But when the taxman comes to the door
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no millionaires son
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate son
Some folks inherit star spangled eyes
Ooh, they send you down to war
And when you ask them how much should we give ?
They only answer more! more! more!
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no militarys son
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate son
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate one, no no
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate son
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fortunate Son
Some folks are born made to wave the flag,
Ooh, theyre red, white and blue.
And when the band plays hail to the chief,
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, lord,
It aint me, it aint me, I aint no senators son, son.
It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, no,
Yeah!
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Lord, dont they help themselves, oh.
But when the taxman comes to the door,
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes,
It aint me, it aint me, I aint no millionaires son, no.
It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, no.
Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war, lord,
And when you ask them, how much should we give?
Ooh, they only answer more! more! more! yoh,
It aint me, it aint me, I aint no military son, son.
It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, one.
It aint me, it aint me, I aint no fortunate one, no no no,
It aint me, it aint me, I aint no fortunate son, no no no,
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Song of Quoodle
They haven't got no noses,
The fallen sons of Eve;
Even the smell of roses
Is not what they supposes;
But more than mind discloses
And more than men believe.
They haven't got no noses,
They cannot even tell
When door and darkness closes
The park a Jew encloses,
Where even the law of Moses
Will let you steal a smell.
The brilliant smell of water,
The brave smell of a stone,
The smell of dew and thunder,
The old bones buried under,
Are things in which they blunder
And err, if left alone.
The wind from winter forests,
The scent of scentless flowers,
The breath of brides' adorning,
The smell of snare and warning,
The smell of Sunday morning,
God gave to us for ours
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
And Quoodle here discloses
All things that Quoodle can,
They haven't got no noses,
They haven't got no noses,
And goodness only knowses
The Noselessness of Man.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Song of Quoodle
They haven't got no noses,
The fallen sons of Eve;
Even the smell of roses
Is not what they supposes;
But more than mind discloses
And more than men believe.
They haven't got no noses,
They cannot even tell
When door and darkness closes
The park a Jew encloses,
Where even the law of Moses
Will let you steal a smell.
The brilliant smell of water,
The brave smell of a stone,
The smell of dew and thunder,
The old bones buried under,
Are things in which they blunder
And err, if left alone.
The wind from winter forests,
The scent of scentless flowers,
The breath of brides' adorning,
The smell of snare and warning,
The smell of Sunday morning,
God gave to us for ours
*
And Quoodle here discloses
All things that Quoodle can,
They haven't got no noses,
They haven't got no noses,
And goodness only knowses
The Noselessness of Man.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm fortunate that the books sell, but even more fortunate to live in Chatham, to be very happily married and to have, on the whole, a fairly clear conscience.
quote by Bernard Cornwell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love's perfection
Oh I am so fortunate.
In the past and in the present.
We fell in love, and loved
and it was total
and unexpected
and revelatory
and unique, of course
and consuming
and falling in love with the whole world too
and with life itself
and a compass
and the possibility of a map
and lacked nothing
and was everything.
And it was so perfect
that now
when I see your double around the town
who looks just like you
and was you
there is no need for nostalgia
or regrets
or how-it-might-have-been-if
or even self-congratulation
because it was so complete
and completed.
I am so fortunate.
I would like to think
(for we talk, easily, but never of the past)
that it is the same for you
for that way, completeness is doubled
and something, perhaps
given to the world.
We are so fortunate.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Miles End
Chinese symbols on his robe
Never gonna match up with that smile
He's wearing mostly black and gold
It's been twelve days
The longest for a while
He's been fortunate
He can't tell a lie
Redheads, blondes, brunettes
They all fall for his lines
He's been king now for so long
His days are numbered
Times have changed, so move along
The dream is over
Draped across Egyptian linen
Even Cleopatra casts an eye
A gossamer see-through zipped up tracksuit
Champagne bottle, ten o'clock on fire
He's been fortunate
He cannot deny
Jacuzzi baronet
With soap suds in his eyes
He's been king now for so long
His days are numbered
Times have changed, so move along
The dream is over
He's been king now for so long
His days are numbered
Times have changed, so move along
The dream is over
We've been waiting for so long
We think it's over
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maori Greeting
No matter where the cafe or the bus stop
The pub or sidewalk of the busy street
It's part of what is their time honoured custom
That Maoris will rub noses when they greet.
Do not ask me why the Maoris rub noses
For about their culture there's little i know
Perhaps their great ancestors brought it with them
From outer Islands centuries ago.
It's Maori way of saying how are you buddy
They always greet each other with a smile
Rub noses and shake hands and sometimes embrace
So good to see you it has been some while.
There is a comraderie amongst the Maoris
The brown skinned people of Pacific Land
They are great warriors but they too can be gentle
And their culture can prove hard to understand.
No matter where tavern or super market
Or side walk of the busy city street
It is part of their old time honoured custom
That Maoris will rub noses when they greet.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fortunate Son
Some folks are born made to wave the flag
Yeah, the red, white, and blue
When the band plays hail to the chief
Yeah, theyll point the cannon at you
It aint me, it aint me
Im no millionaires son
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate one
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Well, they help themselves, yeah
When the taxman comes to the door
House looks a like a rummage sale
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no millionaires son
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate one, no
Some folks inherit star spangled eyes
Yeah, when they send you down to war
Well, when you ask them how much you should give
Yeah, its always more, more, more
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no senators son
It aint me, it aint me
Im no fortunate one
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no military son
It aint me, it aint me
I aint no fortunate son
Take it away...
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have discovered the art of deceiving diplomats. I tell them the truth and they never believe me.
quote by Camillo di Cavour
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Diplomats make it their business to conceal the facts.
quote by Margaret Sanger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have against me the bourgeois, the military and the diplomats, and for me, only the people who take the Metro.
quote by Charles de Gaulle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She be as fresh as a bud.
He is fortunate who is blessed with a bride
As virgin as a bud, err it be blown.
He is fortunate who is blessed with a wife
As chaste as a rose, ever in bloom.
18.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I've played with all of the heavyweights in the modern jazz, progressive jazz movement. I've been fortunate enough to play with them, a who's who. All of those guys, I've been fortunate enough to have performed with.
quote by Sonny Rollins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have discovered the art of deceiving diplomats. I speak the truth, and they never believe me.
quote by Camillo Benso di Cavour
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How is the world ruled and led to war? Diplomats lie to journalists and believe these lies when they see them in print.
quote by Karl Kraus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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