I respect people who feel things passionately. I do. But when someone is a judge, that is not what they should bring to the bench. It is not really passion, except in rare instances, that serves the bench well. It is, rather, an ability to understand the law and follow it.
quote by Charles Schumer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Place To Sit
Smoochers and snoggers, and resting joggers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Ramblers and walkers, and street hawkers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Mini’s and Roller’s, and lady strollers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Old folk and young folk, and dogs with no folk
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Market traders and cavers, and money savers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Children that play who meet everyday
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Students and teachers, and lay preachers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Loose women and boys the ‘for sale’ toys
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Addicts and dealers, and police squealers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Dogs out for a pee who can’t find a tree
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Drunks in the night who like to fight
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Spray painters and doodlers, and bench abusers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Vandals and hooligans, and booted ruffians
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Demolishers and breakers, and obliterators
never stopped until they destroyed this concrete bench.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Bench
Sitting on a bench watching people go by.
Smiles and frowns, Stares and glares
Wondering what they are thinking?
Is it me greeting them one by one
Or me sitting on a bench.
The seat of comfort and distractions
a place to think and read
Feed the birds, Friendly chats
Surprising hellos, A lot of old fellows
wanting the seat, for they are beat!
Everyone's favorite seat
The bench of life
poem by Michael Peterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Man
The old man sat on a park bench
just watching the people pass by.
He did it day after day
alone in everyone's eyes.
He would smile occasionally
but no one ever knew why.
Everyone who saw him
wondered why he sat so still
and just looked out
at everyone who passed him there.
The old man sat in repose
from dawn until dusk fell.
He sat there in the summer sun
and as winter's bleakness fell.
He looked for some face
he might remember from his past
so they could reminisce for a while.
Sadly, the years slipped away.
Everyone spoke about him,
but no one ventured to talk.
Then one day the old man
wasn't on the park bench
and he was nowhere to be seen.
Now a different question was asked.
Day after day, the bench was empty.
Where had the old man gone?
Had he simply passed away?
The questions remained unanswered
because no one ever stopped
to enquire of his name.
I would like to think
that in the dying hours
on the park bench one day
that he had found
what he was waiting for
and then happily he faded away.
12 July 2012
poem by David Harris
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Cat & I
There we sat
Just me and the cat,
Upon a bench overlooking the river Thames,
The cat turned to me
And said, I believe I see
Some approaching cranes.
To the cat with eyes
Always looking rather wise,
I smiled and replied thus,
Is the crane afloat
Aboard a wayward boat
Or arriving atop a bus?
The cat and I
Both did sigh,
For we had come to understand,
Never could we see things quite the same
Life as serious or life as game
For she is a cat and I a man.
So now on the bench she and I continue to sit
Without expressing thoughts one bit,
And thus it shall remain until one or the other does die,
When arrives that lonely day
So long pal will be the only words to say
A simple understanding between intimate friends... the cat and I.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Invisible
Did you spot the girl
Who sat all alone,
On a bench in a playground
Outcast and unknown? ......
The mates meet up early
To recall and recite
From the programmes they watched
On the previous night
The girl on the bench
Her eyes dart pensively
She doesn't join in
As she has no tv
The mates meet for break
Strong opinions they share
On what clothes they like
Trends in labels to wear
The girl on the bench
Turns away in her shame
She doesn't join in
Shabby clothes on her frame
The mates meet for lunch
The school rings with loud prattle
The alpha females
Choose a cage they can rattle
The girl on the bench
muted through her own choice
She doesn't join in
scared of her own small voice
The mates have a moan
At their parents restrictions
Loving guardian's angst
They interpret as friction.
The girl on the bench
Knows the deal she's been dealt
She doesn't join in
Little love has she felt
The mates gather up
Final bell has been rung
The school empties out
All except one...........
The girl on the bench
Sadly stands and walks home
How she longs to fit in
And not feel so alone.
poem by Stevie Taite
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R.e.s.p.e.c.t
It's hard to tell them when what's true,
'Cause deep inside you know they’ll judge you,
Put you down and even condemn you,
They perfectly don't know what you feel,
But still, they don't want to understand what’s real,
'Cause for them you're just the dirt in their hands,
They won't open their hearts and accept you,
But they'll slam the door and push you away,
Tell you you're nothing and stab you with the hurtful word they say.
No one is perfect as many people would say,
But in their eyes, they feel perfect and they won't listen to a word you say,
Respect is a broad word to understand not by mind but by our hearts and soul,
It's confusing to know what respect really means,
'Cause respect couldn’t be seen,
People are people and yes we make mistakes,
We try to be perfect but still, there are rules that we break,
The test of time will measure who we really are with every brave soul that sticks to the word respect and practice it,
Is a ghost of reality that haunts everyone to change what they are today,
Change the things that are wrong and learn to give way.
Good people often get hit by intrigues all the time,
But it doesn't mean revenge should come on the line,
'Cause if only people would learn to give respect to live and if we learn to give respect we'll all be happy,
And we'll never see someone crying or planning revenge to somebody,
Let's RESPECT everybody, treat them as a family.
poem by Karen Montegrande
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Lonely
There was an old man
sat on a park bench,
his trousers were baggy,
his hair was unkempt.
It flowed long and white
right down to his shoes
and children would pass by
looking bemused.
A glint in his eye
and a glow on his cheek
he sat all day long
not a word did he speak,
but should you have asked him
why he was there
he'd had given you reasons, I'm sure
with a stare.
He sat on the park bench
eating some berries,
he didn't look sad
and he didn't look merry,
then just when the church clock
struck quarter to four
the old man got up
and he fell to the floor
Nobody noticed him tumble
nobody even passed by
and as sunshine hid behind a cloud
that lonely old man, he did die.
But sometimes as I pass that bench
I have a strange feeling inside
that someone is eating a berry or two
and watching the people go by
poem by Ruth Walters
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Aspie 1
If you see me distressed
on a bench in your area,
Don't try to ask me why
I feel the way that I do;
You won, t understand how I can't cope
with so much intense stimulation,
The crowds of people are making me suffocate,
So many cars are making me feel sick.
I can't cope, take me out of here,
Out of this pollution filled place,
Into the comforting quiet countryside,
Where I feel loved and safe.
poem by Alun Jones
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Memories On A Park Bench
He sat on a park bench
just to pass the time away
when he saw her there
from the corner of his eye.
She was older now,
but her beauty had not faded.
She turned in his direction
and he smiled at her.
At first, she looked at him strangely
until there was recognition.
She smiled back
and then joined him.
They sat there on the park bench
the sun smiling down on them
as the daffodils swayed in the breeze.
For both of them came a flood
of memories of when they were young
before the world spirited them away.
Both had walked down many roads,
had some hard knocks along the way.
Both recalled them now
the way old friends meeting do.
As they sat there
recalling memories from happier days.
All too soon they would be parting
and as they would go,
they would take with them
a little of each other
in the form of memories
that they acquired on a park bench.
5 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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At the Pond
As I looked around the pond
I see people playing in the snow
Laughing and throwing snowballs at each other
Making snow angles with great pride
Children sledding down the hill as if flying
As I look on the pond
I see people skating
Skating like soaring eagles
Twirling like tornadoes
But graceful as a ballerina dance
As I look around the pond
I see a people having fun
Enjoying themselves
Helping each other as if they were their little sister
I see a peaceful and fun world
But I
I am having no fun
No fun at all
For I am sitting on the bench
Sitting on the bench like a lost dog
For I am cripple
poem by Cassy Taberna
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Going To The Goddess
Going to the bench of wonder brings joy,
A familiar goddess springs up for the country.
We see employment of the years all in a flash,
Oil has remarked on the gold out there in civilisation.
The bench has been wondrous, far too small
A little piece of furniture, as if golden objects.
The going of a business man carries on
Far into the setting of the sun, where we arise
For the innocence is present in our hearts.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Passion Of Life
To achieve something great in the world you need Passion
To fulfill vision, a great leader’s courage comes from Passion
Whatever it may be, you must find your Passion
If passion drives you, let reason hold the reins
Follow your passion and success will follow you!
Never underestimate the power of passion
Without passion religion is spiritless
Without Passion history is meaningless
Without Passion art is useless
Follow your passion and success will follow you!
When you take up a mission with passion
There are no dreams too large
No innovation unimaginable
No frontiers beyond reach
Follow your passion and success will follow you!
Our passions are the winds that propel our vessel
Our reason is the pilot that steers her
Without winds the vessel would not move
Without a pilot she would be lost
Follow your passion and success will follow you!
There is no end and there is no beginning
There is only the passion of life
Passion is universal humanity
Passion is the genesis of genius
Follow your passion and success will follow you!
********************************************* ************************************
poem by Pooja Natarajan
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Understanding
Why do we fight both black and white
'Cause we don't understand
If you give-you get-but if you want respect
Then please understand
Hatred begins and no one wins
Tell me who pays the price
From our generation to the next
Have respect for human life
A man kills another man for things he doens't understand
How can someone take a another life
If people just don't give a damn
Can't respect a man for what he is a man
Then the world will destruct from racial strife
I do believe in self-and self-respect is where it starts
You have to love yourself before you love me
And if love must play a part-then it has to come from the heart
In order for the pain of hate to cease
We got-we got-we got to stop hatred
Hatred is something perpetrated by lies
We got-we got-we got to have justice
The system plays god by who lives or dies
We got-we got- we got to have equality
Do not judge a man by the color of his skin
We need-we need- we need understanding
To make this world a better place to live in
song performed by by 24-7 Spyz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The three parts of the theory are analytical ability, the ability to analyze things to judge, to criticize. Creative, the ability to create, to invent and discover and practical, the ability to apply and use what you know.
quote by Robert Sternberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Respect the doer of mean works
Respect them who do works
That demand no respects
More than them who do works
That command reverence.
Not prepared for such works
That are held low or mean,
You must at least respect
Them who do men works to you.
As a doctor serves you
A barber too serves you.
As a teacher serves you
A sweeper too serves you.
06.02.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The hard necessity of bringing the judge on the bench down into the dock has been the peculiar responsibility of the writer in all ages of man.
quote by Nelson Algren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Respect Is What You Earn Not Command
Respect is what you earn not command
That is something some find hard to understand
You earn respect if respect you do show
From people in your life you've come to know
Of Respect or lack of we do read of and hear
Though 'tis a thing that cannot be born of fear
Of somebody who has power over you
In your feigned respect your feelings are not true.
Many may respect and admire the high achievers of the town
And applaud them on their journey to renown
But with the many some do disagree
Through different eyes we see things differently.
Respect is something you can only show
For one that you feel privileged for to know
And of any shackles true respect is free
That's how it is and that's how 'twill always be.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On A White Bench
at the plaza of this town
fronting the cafe
where i am now writing this poem
i see a white cemented bench
beside a mahogany tree
three men are sitting
they are talking
and i cannot hear them
i am walled
by this glass wall
one wears a white cap
holding a radio
blue faded jeans
and rubber shoes
the second one
a brown subanen native
wearing a white shirt
with a political ads
to vote for mayor dong
the third one
already left before i finished this poem
i could have described him
but i fell short of time and sensitivity
i ask someone beside me
what these three men are up to
they are waiting
they are looking for a job on this hard times
when the price of rice has gone high
together with the gas
i know you want something more than this kind of write
did i keep you waiting too?
tell me did i keep you waiting too for something that you want me to tell you?
i have nothing to tell you
how does it feel to wait, hours perhaps, for something that does not come/
how does it feel to wait
for nothing? tell me, tell me, if you understand now, how is it to sit on a white
bench beside a mahogany tree, in the plaza, in front of an internet cafe
where i write a poem
and nothing nothing really happens
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When you come in to court as a plaintiff or as a defendant, it is terribly important that you look up at the bench and feel that that person represents you and will understand you, that that person is reflective of our community and of our society.
quote by Michael Bloomberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's so worth-while being a judge, because, if I make good, I can help prove that a woman's place is as much on the bench, in City Council, or in Congress, as in the home.
quote by Florence E. Allen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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